


The Delicate And Vicious Nature of Us

by Saremina



Series: Love&Abuse [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Recreational Drug Use, Sort Of, attempt at a normal relationship is made
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saremina/pseuds/Saremina
Summary: Trying to navigate a relationship with Joker is hard enough on its own, but when Arkham burns to the ground, the inmates escape to the streets of Gotham and an enemy who seems to know Bruce all too well sets out to destroy his life, Bruce thinks his life has hit rock bottom.Unfortunately, everything around him seems determined to prove him wrong, Things don't get easier when Bruce begins to suspect Joker might know more about what's going on than he's letting on.A sequel toSomewhere Between Love and Abuse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... who missed this story? Anyone?
> 
> Yes, I could have written another new, independent story, but I really wanted to get back to this 'verse and this is the story I think is worthy of telling. Sorry it took me so long to get to it, but I didn't want to write something that I wasn't fully committed to or didn't feel like it was a good follow up to Somewhere Between Love And Abuse. I hope this will be a worthy successor, but we'll see. I've definitely had a lot of fun with this story so far.

In all fairness, it might have been too much to ask to have just one quiet evening at home. Half an evening might have been more reasonable, or simply accepting that there is no such thing as a quiet evening at home for Bruce — especially nowadays. As Dick’s alarmed voice calls for Bruce again, he sighs and puts the book he’s been trying to read for the past four days down, and leaves the comforts of the library behind.

“ _Bruce!_ ”

“Coming!” Bruce calls back, already dreading what he’s about to face when he enters the great hall. Maybe a burglar Dick isn’t feeling like dealing with himself. Or Black Mask is finally making good of his most recent threat against Bruce after he’d completely by accident foiled his plan to start a shootout in the nightclub Bruce had been in.

What Bruce doesn’t expect to see is Joker, soaked from the rain, dripping too red water all over the floor and pointing a revolver at Dick’s face.

Bruce stops, barely resisting the urge to rub his face, and sighs. “Stop pointing weapons at my family.”

Joker grins at Bruce, or tries to, at least; it comes off as more of a snarl and it’s out of character enough to set Bruce on edge. “Then tell him to get out of my way.”

Dick glances at Bruce over his shoulder, and Bruce nods minutely. With one last glance at Joker, Dick steps aside, but he remains tense and ready to spring to action if need be.

“It’s not Friday yet,” Bruce says, trying to sound casual. They had planned to have dinner with Dick and Tim (at Alfred’s insistence), a sort of get together for them all so that they could start to get used to Joker’s permanent presence in Bruce’s life. Bruce had been nervous enough about that, but having Joker unexpectedly show up at his doorstep, while not something he’s opposed to, is not something he’s prepared for.

Joker — still pointing the revolver at Dick despite the fact that he moved — rolls his eyes. “I know that. I’m not stupid.”

Bruce doesn’t respond, knowing anything he could say has a high possibility of setting Joker off. “Does he need to leave the room?” Bruce asks instead as he descends the stairs, nodding towards Dick.

Joker glances at the revolver. “Oh, no. It’s not loaded. See?” He fires the revolver at floor near Dick’s feet, the shot deafening in the openness of the hall, the bullet sending bits of the floor ricocheting at Dick’s feet and around the room.

“Fuck!” Dick jumps back and Bruce hurries to his side, pulling him away even though Joker has already pulled his hands up and Dick is unharmed.

“Oops.” Joker frowns at the revolver as if it has betrayed him, but it doesn’t take long for his frown to turn into a smile, then to a grin, and soon he’s laughing as he waves the revolver in Bruce’s general direction. Bruce doesn’t bother dodging. “It’s my _other_ revolver that’s not loaded. My bad.”

Joker holsters the revolver while Bruce silently assures Dick that punching Joker won’t do anyone any good.

“Bet you’ve never been so happy to have a hole in your floor,” Joker giggles, swaying in a way that makes Bruce tense. The water he’s dripping all over is turning more red. “Better the floor than the big bird, right?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “That the best you can do? Big bird?”

Joker stills, considering, giving Bruce the chance to truly look at him. His smudged makeup runs across his face in rivulets of black and red, his hair trying desperately to not give up the careful styling it has been subjected to. Stray curls stick to Joker’s forehead, darker than they should be even when soaked. It makes him look almost deranged, but it also makes Bruce want to wrap him in a blanket and force him to join Bruce in a quiet, calm night at home.

“Do I want to know what happened to you?” Bruce asks before Joker can decide if he can come up with a better insult.

Joker hums, tilting his head from side to side. “No.”

“You’re bleeding,” Bruce points out, unhelpful as it may be.

“It’s worse than it looks,” Joker says, waving Bruce off. “No wait, that’s wrong —” he dissolves into a fit of giggles, holding a hand up to keep Bruce silent “— it’s not. It’s the rain. Water makes everything drippy and worse.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. “Do you need help, or is there some other reason you’re here?”

Joker gasps, clutching his chest. “I can’t just miss you anymore? I can’t just want to see the light of my life, the strawberry on top of my cake, the Romeo to my Juliet — I look great in a dress, by the way. I bet you’d like it. I could —”

“Don’t.” Bruce raises his hand. “Please? Not...”

“In front of your kids?” Joker nods solemnly. “I get it. You need to protect their fragile minds.”

Bruce frowns until Tim clears his throat behind him. Bruce turns, giving Tim a surprised look before smiling a little at the proud set of Tim’s shoulders. He’s been practicing sneaking around, and this is the first time Bruce hadn’t noticed him. Granted, Bruce did have other, more pressing things demanding his attention and Tim is at the top of the stairs, his mismatched socks making his familiar steps silent on the carpet, isn’t close enough to demand Bruce’s attention.

“Why are you here?” Bruce asks Joker again, softer this time.

Joker shifts, waving his hand in a vague circle. “I just wanted to tell you, in person, that I didn’t do it.”

“Do what?”

Joker blinks. “You don’t know?”

Before Bruce can reply, Alfred enters the hall, the serious look on his face making Bruce’s blood run cold.

Joker grins and throws his hands in the air. “Jeeves!”

Alfred offers Joker a polite nod. “Hello.” He turns to Bruce, turning serious again. “Arkham is on fire.”

It takes Bruce a second to register Alfred’s words. “What?”

“It’s not my fault!” Joker pipes in.

“Why would it be your fault?” Bruce asks, trying hard to remain calm.

Joker grimaces. “Remember that highly combustible chemical I told you I didn’t have?”

“The one you have? Yes.”

“Had.” Joker spreads his arms and offers Bruce a sheepish smile. “It got stolen.”

Dick groans behind Bruce before turning on his heels and walking away. “I need coffee.”

“We all do,” Bruce mutters before turning to Joker again. “Who the hell would steal from _you_?”

“I’ll let you know when I find that out,” Joker says, his voice taking a dark edge Bruce knows to be wary of.

“Should I patch him up?” Alfred asks, studying Joker with a surprising amount of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” Bruce looks at Joker and bites his lip. “I need to deal with the fire, so I’ll talk to you in the morning. When you’re not bleeding and things are... less... whatever is going on right now.”

“I’ll play nice until then,” Joker promises.

“And we’re all relieved to hear that,” Alfred says, a calculated hint of sarcasm in his voice that earns him an appreciative grin from Joker.

At least they get along, Bruce thinks as Joker skips to Alfred on unsteady feet.

“Ooh, before I forget.” Joker turns to Tim, and Bruce tenses. “I need to kidnap you.”

“Why?” Tim asks, and Bruce scowls at him. He should be saying no, not asking for a reason.

Joker shrugs. “You see, Ed, Eds, Eddie spagettie, our dear darling dumbass genius thinks that you’re stupid and would die ten seconds into trying to solve one of his puzzles. I felt obliged to defend your abilities since I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to do that now. Right? I’m supposed to do that?” His eyes flicker from Tim to Bruce to Alfred, and Bruce fails to keep a smile from gracing his lips.

There’s something sweet in Joker’s attempts to take Bruce’s family into consideration. He might do so in strange, questionable and downright ridiculous ways, but he tries and even though it still surprises and more of then than not causes Bruce to develop a headache, it also warms Bruce’s heart.

“So why do you need to kidnap me?” Tim asks, hesitant, cautious, as he should be.

“Because we need to see if you can survive one of Eddie’s games and I promised to, ah, secure you. So to speak. So how about it? Wanna see if you’re smarter than Eddie?” Joker grins, nodding encouragingly.

“No,” Bruce cuts in before Tim can answer.

“I could do it,” Tim says, just as Bruce feared he would.

Bruce turns to frown at Tim. “You’re not going to willingly get stuck in one of their games. Alone.”

“I’ll make sure he’ll live. In more or less one piece too,” Joker assures Bruce with a dismissive wave of his hand, and if Bruce wasn’t so taken aback by Joker’s words, he might be quicker to say no again.

“I’ll be fine,” Tim says. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

There are so many worst thing to happen Bruce isn’t sure which one he should bring up first. That while Joker might not want to bring Bruce any permanent harm, his concern for Tim’s safety has nothing to do with him wanting Tim to be safe and everything to do with him not wanting to anger Bruce? That Joker could get bored or distracted, and Tim could die as a result? Or Nygma could kill Tim before Joker can do anything about it, or Joker could simply not realize the danger Tim is in, causing him to die.

“No.”

Joker frowns. “Let the birdie spread his wings and fly free, would you? He’s gonna end up hating you if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but a little freedom would be nice,” Tim adds.

Bruce’s jaw almost drops. This is not happening, not when Arkham is on fire and Joker is bleeding, and Bruce was supposed to have a nice, quiet evening all to himself. “You’re not teaming up against me.”

“So now you _don’t_ want us to get along?” Joker raises an eyebrow and tuts. “Make up your mind.”

“You’re not putting him in one of Nygma’s traps alone, and that’s the end of it.”

Joker sighs, glancing around the foyer, a dangerous pout on his face. “Is this because of —”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be eating through a straw for months,” Bruce snaps before he can stop himself. Joker stares at him, hurt clear in his eyes. Tim and Alfred eye Bruce as well, neither of them happy with him.

It’s not that Joker is wrong, but Bruce doesn’t want to even come close to bringing up the topic of Jason with him. The wound of it is still too fresh and Joker is the one who put it there. It’s a bomb waiting to explode between them, and Bruce is trying his best not to let it go off.

He needs it to not go off.

“Well.” Alfred clears his throat. “Shall we go?”

Joker follows Alfred without another word, and his silence stings more than any words could.

Bruce doesn’t follow them, even though he wants to. Instead he pulls out his phone and does a quick search on the situation at Arkham, and starts preparing for a long night out.

* * *

The sun paints the skyline red as it climbs the horizon, the Asylum glowing orange in the light, smoke rising from the remains of the old building, parts of it still somehow standing. The firefighters have managed to subdue the flames for the most part, but their work is only starting, taking a darker turn when they must assist the rescue workers and police in assessing the damage and pulling bodies and survivors from what remains of Arkham Asylum.

Bruce had charged the burning structure and focused on getting the inmates out — especially from the maximum security wings where anyone else was not inclined to go. He’d had to carry Ivy out and into a waiting ambulance, and Harley had helped him usher the less coherent patients out as a thank you.

Both Tim and Dick are there too, taking advantage of the several paths out of the Asylum as they get as many people out as they can. By the time the three of them are done they’re exhausted, but satisfied that they’ve done everything they can do that night.

Now it’s just a matter of finding out who set the fire in the first place, and Bruce considers himself lucky he has the first lead waiting for him at the manor. Assuming Joker is still there, that is.

When Bruce gets back to the manor, Alfred informs him that as far as he knows Joker has not left the premises, but Alfred had chosen not to try to limit Joker’s movements and keep him in one place, so he has not kept perfect track of Joker’s current location.

After a quick shower and putting on pants and the first clean shirt he can find, Bruce sets out on a search through the manor. It doesn’t take long for Bruce to find Joker in the kitchen. The counters are messy in a way Alfred would never allow them to be and Joker is nursing a cup of coffee while leaning against the counter, his eyes closed. He doesn’t acknowledge Bruce’s presence, but Bruce knows better than to assume Joker isn’t fully aware he’s there.

“Arkham is gone,” Bruce says as a way of greeting. “They’ll have to rebuild the old place — if the foundation is still standing it could be done — or they’ll build a new asylum altogether. Opinions?”

“It’s _Arkham;_ you can’t build a new one and call it that.”

It’s not the answer Bruce expected. It’s definitely more honest than he thought Joker would be, but it also makes sense. Arkham isn’t just an asylum to Joker or the other rogues — or anyone in Gotham, really. Arkham is, as Joker said, Arkham. It has personality, a presence, and it can’t be replaced or rebuilt.

“How was the fire?” Joker turns to Bruce, blowing at his coffee. “Did it at least look amazing?”

“Harley’s in a hospital,” Bruce replies.

Joker shrugs. “It’s not my problem.”

And to think they used to be in a relationship.

“Anything else?” Joker blows the steam off his coffee again before taking a long sip. “Or is this the point where I get a kiss?”

“I’ll need see the place you hid the chemicals in if we’re going to find out who stole them from you,” Bruce says with a sigh, and makes his way to Joker, wrapping an arm around Joker’s waist. “And I think we can switch the dinner to a breakfast, if you’re staying here tonight. Or do a trial run.”

“I’m not on my meds,” Joker replies quietly.

Bruce frowns. “What?”

“I had Jonny get me meds for the dinner. I don’t... you know me.”

Bruce nudges Joker, not daring to do more to break the silence in fear of ensuring Joker won’t continue.

Joker groans and presses his jaw to his chest. “I don’t want to ruin your dinner, okay? I thought that if I was high as a kite I’d have easier time not doing... something stupid.”

Bruce blinks, staring at the top of Joker’s head in stunned silence. Sometimes Joker can be so disturbingly thoughtful. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, it seems like underneath all the insanity, there’s a normal person there, and every time Joker displays those moments of thoughtfulness (even if it may manifest in strange ways), Sometimes Bruce wonders if —

“Though breakfast might be interesting. How many knives do you usually bring to the table? Forks? Spoons?” Joker gasps. “Will there be sporks?”

 _—_ never mind.

“If you stab someone I’ll be so mad that I can’t come up with an appropriate threat right now,” Bruce replies.

“No stabbing, got it. But will there be sporks?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s just boring.”

Bruce chuckles and kisses the corner of Joker’s unpainted mouth. “Come to bed?”

Joker lifts his cup. “After coffee.”

Bruce stays close to Joker while he finishes his coffee, running his knuckles across Joker’s side and taking the chance to enjoy the moment of closeness and peace.

* * *

Breakfast turns out to be just as interesting as Bruce worried it might be, and Bruce tries to decide if he should regret letting everyone sit down together or not as he picks up his second toast.

Tim and Dick sit as far from Joker as they can, and Bruce tries to scroll through the news on his phone and keep an eye on Joker who’s folded his legs underneath him and is currently tearing a scone to pieces.

“Coffee?” Alfred asks, startling Bruce out of his head.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll get a cup too,” Tim pipes in, and Dick nods with a brief, tense smile thrown at Alfred over his phone.

Smartly, Alfred starts by making sure Joker has a fresh cup in front of him before turning to caffeinate the others.

“So,” Tim starts, his eyes darting around the table. “What’s everyone doing today?”

“Board meetings,” Bruce says when Dick takes too long to answer. Joker snorts into his coffee, and Bruce narrows his eyes.

“I need to get back to Bludhaven,” Dick says.

Bruce keeps an eye on Joker as Alfred brings the cheesecake he’d made just because Joker is there. Joker perks up at the sight, and picks up the nearest sharp blade, stopping at the scraping sound of chairs being pushed back. Bruce gives Tim and Dick his most unimpressed look while Joker sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m not gonna turn into Stabby McStabberton the moment I have a sharp object in my hand, you know?” Joker waves the knife for good measure. “Thinking like that is kinda insulting. Do you have prejudices against every mentally ill person you come across?”

Tim shakes his head. “Of course no —“

“Do you think I’d bother stabbing you when I can have cheesecake?” Joker presses on as if Tim hadn’t said anything, and Bruce buries his face in his hands. “The cheesecake has you beat. If this place catches on fire, I’d grab the cake and run over you to save it.”

“Just eat your damn cake,” Bruce groans, rubbing his face. “Please?”

Joker is more than happy to comply, but he takes a moment to give Tim and Dick a disappointed shake of his head before cutting himself a large slice of the cheesecake and digging into the cake a little too enthusiastically.

“When did you last eat?” Bruce asks as casually as he can while Dick drags the cheesecake closer to himself.

Joker shoves another spoonful into his mouth and hums. “Jonny’s been out of town for... four days?”

Bruce can feel the headache building behind his eyes.

“I don’t know. Oh! Happy got me a pretzel yesterday.” Joker frowns. “No, that’d be two days ago now. And there’s been a lot of coffee.”

Bruce stares at Joker, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m eating now.” To demonstrate his point, Joker eats another spoonful of the cheesecake.

“You need food, not a sugar high.” Bruce grabs a small plate and puts a few sandwiches on it, and sets it before Joker with a hard look on his face.

Joker glances at the plate as he takes a long drink of his coffee, his expression getting that particular mischievous edge Bruce only appreciates when they’re alone. He sets the coffee cup down, smiling sweetly at Bruce. “You gonna pack me a little lunch bag next? Send me off to school to learn how to blend in with the masses?” Joker grins, pitching his voice higher when he speaks, “‘daddy wants me to eat my greens or he’ll spank me when I get home.’”

Bruce kind of wants to die. Especially when Tim snickers, somewhere between amused and shocked, and Joker winks at Tim like they’re sharing some kind of a secret. Disk pointedly stares at his cereal, looking more done with the situation than Bruce ever thought possible.

Joker turns back to Bruce, still grinning, and Bruce prays his face isn’t flushed despite how hot he suddenly feels. “If you wa—“

“When are you leaving?” Bruce’s voice is just a bit too loud to be natural, his eyes fixed on Dick, and Joker dissolves into a fit of giggles. “Do you need a lift?” Bruce continues in a more even tone.

“No, I’ve got a ride already. Thanks, though.”

Bruce nods, ignoring the knowing grin on Joker’s face. At least he doesn’t say anything.

The rest of the breakfast goes smoothly, though Joker keeps throwing looks at Bruce, sometimes accompanied by quiet giggles, sometimes a dangerous smile, and Bruce isn’t looking forward to finding out what Joker is thinking. Well, maybe he is, just a little, but only a little.

True to his word, Dick drives from the mansion on his motorbike, taking Tim to school with him. Bruce stays just long enough to make Joker promise he’ll be there when Bruce gets back from work. “I’ll bring you that sickly sweet coffee you like.”

“Bring two,” Joker counters.

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“Or I’ll go get them myself and you can watch the whole thing unfold in the news.”

“I’ll get you your coffee,” Bruce promises, allowing Joker to pull him into a brief, sweet kiss. And then another.

“Stay,” Joker breathes against Bruce’s lips, and it’s such a tempting idea. He could call in sick. After so little sleep and the whole Arkham fiasco last night, Alfred would probably look at him with only mild disappointment if he did. He could stay with Joker, they could curl against each other on a couch or in Bruce’s bed, and maybe watch something that will send Joker into a commentary spiral and Bruce can smile and enjoy it until he pulls Joker into his arms...

“I shouldn’t.”

Alfred clears his throat behind them. “Should I inform Lucius you’re feeling ill today?”

“Yes,” Joker says before Bruce can even begin to consider how to thank Alfred. Joker grabs Bruce’s arm and drags him away before Bruce can contradict him (not that he was going to) or Alfred can say he wasn’t serious.

Joker takes great joy from stripping Bruce off his suit, and Bruce is more than happy to be pulled on his bed and have Joker wrap his legs around Bruce’s waist as bites Bruce’s lip almost too hard. If it wasn’t for the way Joker shies away, just for a second. from Bruce when his hand brushes against Joker’s side, Bruce would gladly see how far Joker wants to take things, but as it is he figures one of them has to be responsible and stop before Joker gets hurt.

Joker pouts and complains, but Bruce would rather have that than have Joker bleed all over his bed. He says as much, and Joker stick his tongue out, though he allows Bruce to talk him into browsing Netflix for now.

Bruce doses off halfway through the movie Joker picks while Joker plays with his hair and the warmth of his body a comforting against Bruce’s side.

* * *

Joker disappears before Bruce has a chance to ask him about where he had kept the chemicals whoever had set Arkham on fire had stolen. At least Bruce had gotten more food into Joker before he left, and it’s almost nightfall so Joker won’t have that much time to hide so Bruce considers himself lucky.

Though knowing Joker, he doesn’t need much time to disappear.

“I’ll help,” Tim promises, raising his hand when Bruce is about to object. “I’ll stay out of the way and if he doesn’t want me there, I’ll go. But I also want to help; someone set Arkham on fire and we need to find the... person.”

Not wanting to start an argument, Bruce agrees to bring Tim along, intending to dump him to solve the first ongoing crime investigation they run across. Or perhaps Gordon would have something for Tim to do.

But no; Bruce doesn’t find a crime for Tim to solve or get a chance to bother Gordon to find Tim something suitable to do, as Gordon is too busy with the Arkham situation to see anyone. Instead — despite all the dread building in him — he takes Tim with him to track down Joker. He tries his best not to think about the fact that it’s the first time in years he’s willingly putting Robin in Joker’s line of sight, or how that might end.

“Can’t you just call him and ask him where he is?” Tim asks half an hour into their search, stopping his check of his equipment to look at Bruce.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Bruce replies, and doesn’t elaborate.

How could he? There’s no explaining the things that come naturally for him and Joker. There’s no explaining the thrill they both get from the search, from chasing each other through Gotham, from the occasional scuffles they still get into and the proper, purposeful hunting Bruce has to do when Joker decides he’s done playing nice and commits a crime Bruce can’t ignore.

Tim would never understand it — Bruce barely understand it himself. It’s something so embedded into his core at this point, a sort of Pavlovian response, that he can only accept it as part of himself and make peace with it.

An hour later they find Joker in the Bowery, walking Pumpkin down the road with no care in the world. Bruce grimaces at the sight of the dog, but Tim grins; he likes Pumpkin, and the damned thing likes Tim back. Bruce still isn’t sure how he’s supposed to get into the good graces of the dog and Joker refuses to help him, claiming it’s too much fun to watch Bruce avoid the dog when he’s at Joker’s place. Bruce can only imagine what will happen when Pumpkin comes face to face with Batman; with his luck, Joker has taught her to attack on sight.

Bruce stops Tim from hopping down from the top of the building they’re at. Without a word, he follows Joker, sticking to the higher ground and to the shadows. Tim follows, though his jaw tenses in the way it does when he’s not sure what’s going on and he doesn’t like it.

It takes less than a minute for Joker to slow down, just for a step, not enough for anyone who doesn’t know him as well as Bruce does to notice, but Bruce knows he’s picked up on being followed. It’s an admirable talent, but sometimes Bruce worries it’s one born from anxiety and hyper-vigilance or paranoia, and not something that is naturally Joker.

Joker skips down the road seemingly unaware of his tail again, and Pumpkin hurries after him, tail wagging, her joyous barks breaking the cacophony of cars and occasional shouts.

Five minutes pass before Joker ducks into a narrow alleyway.

Without missing a beat, Bruce grapnels across the road and climbs down to the alleyway, Tim hot on his heels. They find Pumpkin there, at the end of the alleyway, sitting patiently and wagging her tail at Tim. Bruce gets a growl when he gets too close, so he stays back while Tim hurries to the dog. “What are you doing here all alone?”

The air behind Bruce shifts minutely and he turns, his arm raised to block the thick wooden board aimed at his head. His hand smarts from the impact, but he ignores it in favor of glaring at Joker. “Seriously?”

Joker looks at Bruce like he’d just offended him in some unforgivable way. “ _That’s_ what you’re going with?”

It’s not the most eloquent line he could’ve gone for, Bruce can admit that, but it’s out there and he’s sticking with it.

Joker huffs and rolls his eyes, giving Bruce a disappointed headshake as he steps around him, the board forgotten. His attention turns to Tim, still grouched on the ground, scratching Pumpkin’s ear and pointedly ignoring everything else. Joker studies him, his eyes too sharp, his wide smile unreadable.

It sends chills down Bruce’s spine and he steps back into Joker’s field of vision, trusting his obsession with Batman to trump any appeal Robin petting Joker’s dog could ever offer. It works — sort of. Joker’s attention doesn’t quite shift from Tim, but he turns towards Bruce nevertheless.

“I need to know where you kept the chemicals,” Bruce says, knowing Joker knows exactly what he means.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Joker replies casually. “Be more specific or go find your secret stash alone.”

“The chemicals that were stolen from you.”

“That place?” Joker tilts his head. “Now why would I tell you that?”

So that’s how they’re going to play this today. For a moment, Bruce entertains the idea of not playing along, but with Tim there and Joker still in a more or less good mood, he decides playing along is the better option. “What do you want?”

Joker waves at Tim. “He could do Eddie’s little puzzle trap.”

“No.”

“I’ll do it,” Tim cuts in, standing up. “I want to.”

“ _No_ ,” Bruce repeats with more force.

Joker spreads his arms and smiles. “Then have fun looking for my stash. Oh, sorry, _former_ stash.”

Bruce grits his teeth and doesn’t deign to answer; starting an argument won’t do him any good. But how else is he supposed to get Joker to tell him what he needs to know? Bruce is half tempted to just comb through Gotham until he finds what he needs, just to show Joker that he can do that as well, and Joker’s help isn’t a necessity.

“I want to do this,” Tim insists. “I’m ready for it.”

“See?” Joker hops next to Tim, hooking their arms and grinning brightly. “It’ll be our first family outing together. How sweet is that? We’re bonding so well!”

Bruce narrows his eyes, and Joker’s grin falls. “Don’t you want us to bond? Would you prefer me to plot his murder instead?”

“No.” Bruce really wants to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Of course not.”

“Then why won’t you let us spend time together?” Joker pouts in that way he does when he wants Bruce to bend to his will.

“Because you’re asking to put him in a death trap!”

Tim sighs, and somehow it’s worse than if he’d voiced his disappointment in words.

There’s no winning this fight, Bruce knows it, but as much as he knows (intellectually he _does_ know) that Tim would most likely be fine, he can’t get the image of Jason out of his head, not with Joker there.

“I have a dog to walk,” Joker declares suddenly. “You go think about what you want, I’ll go feed the pooch and... do something.”

Joker grabs Pumpkin’s leash and tugs at it gently to get Pumpkin to move. She growls at Bruce on principle as she passes, and Bruce lets Joker and the dog go. It’s better than starting a fight.

It has to be.

“I wish you’d trust me,” Tim says quietly after Joker disappears from their view. Bruce doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not Tim he doesn’t trust, so he remains silent and heads back to the roofs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to update this every other week for now since I'm working on another fic for another ship, opening commissions and starting uni soon. For more update info check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/Saremina__) where I'm gonna (try to remember to) post more detailed update plans.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about fighting with Joker is that if Joker manages to walk away, Bruce is better off letting him calm down than hounding him into another confrontation. The problem with that is that if Joker is angry enough, or if he works himself up into a rage while he’s alone, Gotham suffers for it.

That’s why, when Alfred wakes Bruce up at noon five days after Joker had walked away from Bruce with his lips pressed into a thin line, Bruce fears the worst. “You’d best turn on the news,” Alfred informs him, only furthering Bruce’s fears.

Bruce scrambles out of his bed and turns the TV on, only to be confronted by Vicki Vale doing her best to keep a straight face while standing in front of the Mayor’s Office. The Mayor’s Office that’s covered in bright, rainbow colored goo and glitter. There’s a giant jack-in-the-box still in front of the building, and a vines with bright flowers growing too fast and breaking through windows. The police are sealing off the area, and Vale informs her watchers that the state of the Mayor’s Office will have to be thoroughly investigated before any clean up can be done.

Oh. Oh no. This is...

Bruce laughs, he can’t help it.

It has been a few weeks since someone in the Mayor’s Office got caught trying to purposefully block the opening of a new cafe the local LGBT-group has been trying to start for the better part of a year now.

“This might be one crime I cannot fully condemn,” Alfred muses.

“Yeah.” Bruce clears his throat and focuses on the news again. He suspects it’s the result of an unusual joint effort of Ivy and Joker, as Harley is still in a hospital being treated for her burns and the damage the smoke had done to her lungs — and she’s under heavy surveillance, of course.

As the news moves from the glittery rainbow goo to other topics, Bruce closes the TV and heads downstairs.

Tim is already in the kitchen, eating an apple, his attention focused on his phone. “The initial police report says there are three bodies found in the rainbow goo,” he informs Bruce without looking up. “Just so you know.”

Bruce sighs and digs his phone out, quickly hitting the speed dial for Joker (another Joker related thing he wouldn’t have thought possible not too long ago), and gets himself a cup of coffee while he waits for Joker to pick up.

Joker answers after several rings with an excited squeak. “ _ Darling! _ ” Joker loves calling Bruce that, now that he can.

“Stop killing people,” Bruce says as a greeting. Tim spares him an incredulous glance.

Joker hums, pretending to think it over. “How about no?”

“Worth a shot,” Bruce mutters, taking some joy in Joker’s bright laughter. “Other than the dead people... the goo is a nice touch. What’s it?”

“Not telling you. You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

“What’s the point of you knowing I’m Batman if you still make me do all the work?” Bruce counters.

Joker scoffs. “You love doing the work. Now be a good boy and go get your goo sample and figure it out.”

With that, Joker hangs up.

Bruce sighs. He’s used to Joker being Joker, but sometimes he wishes things were easier with him.

“No luck?” Tim asks and Bruce shakes his head.

“Any news on Arkham?”

Tim frowns at his phone. “The reports say that while the entire asylum suffered damage, parts of the newer buildings could be renovated pretty quickly. The old asylum took most of the damage and it would need to be basically completely rebuild.”

“There’s probably going to be a board meeting soon,” Bruce says. It’s not something he’s looking forward to; the board meetings are never easy and too often the people in them don’t care about the patients they’re supposed to care about, only about money. “I need to focus on the asylum. Can you check on the goo situation?”

“Sure.”

“Just... don’t get in Joker’s way. I don’t think he’d hurt you, but it’s better if we don’t get him mad over something that’s easily avoidable.” Bruce offers Tim a brief smile.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Don’t break the deal you have with him, you mean.”

“Exactly,” Bruce replies, making sure his voice carries a hint of apology.

After scrutinizing Bruce for a few long seconds, Tim nods. “I’ll get on it.” He sounds happy to have his own case to work on, and Bruce is happy he’s happy.

After breakfast, Bruce heads off to Wayne Enterprises to see how Lucius is doing, and after he’s done there he spends the rest of the day in the penthouse going through the reports on Arkham. He wants the asylum issue dealt with swiftly; the inmates hurt in the fire are beginning to heal, and soon there won’t be a place to hold them. Sure, some of the other mental hospitals in and near Gotham have taken in some of the non-violent patients, but that still leaves most of the inmates either in hospitals, the maximum security ward patients locked in Blackgate (which Batman had objected to, much to Gordon’s displeasure), or simply in police custody.

It’s a situation that’s bound to blow up sooner rather than later, and Bruce isn’t looking forward to it. Best thing would be to get the asylum up and running as soon as possible, and Bruce will just have to try and keep the city from burning in the mean time.

* * *

The good thing about being in a relationship with Joker (and having him know Bruce is Batman, and his family know about the relationship) is that Joker is the only Arkham inmate Bruce doesn’t have to worry about — and he would have been the main concern if he had to do that. It takes a little bribery and a lot of negotiating for Joker and a lot of assurances for Alfred, Tim, Dick and Barbara, but eventually Bruce breathes easier in the knowledge that Joker is not going to go on a murder spree any time soon.

It leaves Bruce dealing with the rest of Arkham’s inmates, but the task seems just a bit easier without Joker in the mix.

And then there’s the board meeting.

Joker wishes Bruce good luck with the meeting, but he’s holding back laughter and he barely tries to pretend to hide his amusement at Bruce’s misery.

Bruce grits his teeth and makes himself sit through the meeting. As expected, Leland is concerned about the patients and Rogers worries about getting a better asylum — just not for the patients. He wants the cost of running the place down and the profits up, but Bruce hopes he will be concerned enough about his own image to make sure the patients are at least somewhat cared for.

“I’ve been informed that most of Arkham can be renovated and opened again within months,” Bruce points out when Rogers attempts to talk the board into building a completely new asylum. “Renovating takes less time and less money. And we can fix existing issues at the same time.”

Leland nods. “We have hundreds of patients that need immediate care, and the new wings could be renovated and opened sooner than any new asylum could.”

“A new asylum would be better,” Rogers replies. “We could fix the issues such as the constant escapes with it.”

It’s a good point, and for a moment Bruce considers the benefits of tearing the old asylum down and building a new one, but...

“Why don’t we do both?” Martin, an aging man with thick glasses says. “Renovate the parts we can with relative ease for immediate relief for the, um, patient issue, and build new facilities once the immediate issue has been dealt with. The old asylum was due to being torn down anyways; who did we even keep there anymore?”

“Joker,” Leland replies immediately. “And other maximum security patients with special needs for accommodations and security measures.”

It gets everyone to quiet down for a moment, and if Bruce didn’t know Joker would be the least of Gotham’s problems in the upcoming months, he’d be wearing the same fearful, nauseated look as everyone else. He fakes it, of course — best not let anyone suspect anything — but he doesn’t feel it.

Eventually Rogers clears his throat. “Perhaps we ought to renovate the least damaged parts of the asylum.” He shuffles the papers in front of him. “We’ll focus on getting the maximum security up and running.”

It’s a decent plan, and Bruce is happy to support it. “Give Wayne Enterprises a call when you need to start installing security systems.”

The meeting drifts on, and by the end of it Bruce is more than happy to return home. The meeting, while important and unusually beneficial, was tiring. It always surprises Bruce how little people who should be dedicated to treating mentally ill people care about those they should care about. It’s infuriating, but Bruce has learned to pretend it doesn’t bother him as much as it does.

At least they’d come into an agreement and the Arkham inmates should have a place to stay within the year. Assuming things go well, which they never do. Maybe Bruce should consider housing his rogues gallery at the manor. Joker would find it hilarious and it might be worth it for that alone.

Bruce slumps in the driver seat of his car, sighing and rubbing his eyes. He checks his phone and turns the sound back on, surprised that Joker has send him a message while he was in the meeting.

_ How’d it go? _

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting Joker to care about how the meeting would go, at least not enough to ask Bruce about it so soon.

_ The old asylum is gone, but some of the less damaged newer wings can be renovated. _

Bruce doesn’t wait for a reply before heading back home.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for all hell to break loose in Gotham: over half of the maximum security inmates from Arkham somehow end up in the streets over a single night, and it forces Bruce to abandon his investigation into the Arkham fire. He calls Dick for help and luckily he arrives within a day.

The police are scrambling, and there’s talk of calling in outside help among the citizens. Bruce hopes it won’t come to that, even when he crawls into Joker’s bed one morning, exhausted and battered from taking on a gang of criminals on his own. Joker whispers sweet nothings into his ear and tends to his injuries, and Bruce falls asleep faster than he usually does.

When Bruce wakes up it’s well past noon, but he feels more refreshed than he has in days. Joker is in the kitchen with coffee and Pumpkin chewing a bone at his feet, and it’s domestic enough to make Bruce stop and smile.

“What?” Joker tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“I love you,” Bruce says, just because he can.

Joker blinks, then he smiles, bright and happy. He doesn’t blush, exactly, but he hides his face behind his large coffee mug. “Ditto.”

Bruce laughs and gets himself coffee as well. He needs to go back home soon, but for now he lets himself enjoy Joker’s company.

“Do you want me to tag along tonight?” Joker asks, much to Bruce’s surprise. Joker doesn’t stop running his foot along Bruce’s angle under the table or take his eyes off his phone screen despite Bruce taking so long to answer.

“Do you want to come?”

Joker shrugs. “I’m bored. I could live vicariously through you — not when you’re all goody two shoes, but when you’re beating people to a pulp. I miss seeing that.”

Of course he does. “You’ll have to deal with Tim and Dick being there.”

Joker grimaces, setting his phone down. “I can live with that. They’re not gonna spend the entire night with us, right?”

“They don’t have to,” Bruce replies. “But with the mess at our hands, we can’t ignore them either.”

Joker drinks his coffee, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“You’ll have to learn to accept that they are a part of my life if you want this to work out,” Bruce points out.

“I accept that,” Joker replies a little too fast.

Bruce sighs. “Part of Batman’s life.” Joker’s grip on his mug tightens, and his jaw clenches. Bruce smiles sadly. “How about you and I spend tomorrow night looking into the Arkham fire? That’s something we could do alone.”

“You just want to get into my secret stashes,” Joker grumbles, but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth softens his tone.

“True, but I’d rather do it with you than without you. I could chase you there?” Bruce nudges Joker’s foot and smiles. “Darling.”

Joker barks a laugh. “That’s... that’s low.”

Bruce gives Joker his most innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Joker laughs and the last hints of the sour look on his face vanish. It’s enough for Bruce, and he forgets about the coffee in favor of pulling Joker into a kiss. Joker laughs against Bruce’s lips and climbs into his lap, and pulls at Bruce’s hair hard enough to sting. Bruce wishes he’d had time to take Joker to bed, but he settles for kissing Joker, deep and hard and demanding, until he pulls back to breathe and scramble off Bruce.

Before Bruce can even think about protesting, Joker drops to the floor, pulls Bruce’s pants down, and takes him into his mouth.

Bruce groans and lets Joker do as he pleases, satisfied to enjoy the heat of Joker’s mouth. Joker grins at Bruce and swallows around his length. Bruce curses under his breath and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t last long — he rarely does with Joker knowing him disturbingly well by now — but he doesn’t care. It gives him time to pull Joker up from the ground, get his pants down and jerk him off while Joker moans into Bruce’s mouth, his hands pulling Bruce’s hair. Joker shudders and sighs into the kiss, and comes over Bruce’s hand and lap.

Joker laughs, breathless and delighted. “You’re gonna need a shower if you wanna go do your big boy job today, buttercup.”

Bruce snorts and leans back to look at Joker better. “Join me?”

“Sweetie, if you need to ask we have a massive problem in our hands.”

“Didn’t want to assume.” Bruce smiles at Joker, presses a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, and holds his hand as he pulls Joker into the bathroom.

* * *

As Bruce comes home from another long night out, he lets out a careful, relieved breath, mindful of his injured ribs. He’s glad he promised to spend the next night out with Joker, as doing detective work with Joker will undoubtedly slow him down. It will be easier on his body than another night out taking on Arkham’s worst, and Bruce needs to take better care of himself so that he’ll be ready for when the rogues start causing trouble.

“Lucius wants to see you today,” Alfred informs Bruce. “He apologized for not catching you yesterday.”

The last time Bruce had stopped by Wayne Enterprises, Lucius had been in Metropolis. It almost makes Bruce sigh. He needs sleep, and he needs it now. The several hours he’d spent in Joker’s bed seem like a distant dream after the night he had.

“I’ll get on it as soon as I’ve rested a bit,” Bruce promises.

Tim and Dick have already trudged to their rooms by the time Bruce leaves the batcave, and even Alfred has gone to bed. They’re all more tired than usual from the stress the Arkham situation puts them in, and Bruce makes a mental note of giving them all some time off once the situation calms down a bit.

Bruce falls asleep as soon as he reaches his bed, and when Alfred wakes him up a few hours later, he’s exhausted. He tries a cold shower, but though he gets himself presentable enough to go to the Wayne Enterprises, his body is sluggish as he heads to find breakfast.

He’s doing a little better by the time he meets up with Lucius, but he’s glad he let Alfred drive him there, and that he agreed to meet Tim up for coffee after the meeting. They don’t do enough things together outside of their crime fighting these days, and Tim had been so hesitant to ask if Bruce would come for coffee that there was no way Bruce was ever going to decline.

Lucius shows Bruce a few new ideas he has for regular Wayne Enterprises projects, and something for Robin as well. Bruce promises to run it by Tim, but he’s confident Tim will love the idea so he tells Lucius to start working on it.

When he’s done with Lucius, Bruce meets up with Tim. Tim had selected a small corner cafe near Wayne Enterprises as their meeting place, and when Bruce enters it he understands why; the place is comfortable and warm, the air smelling of fresh pastries and coffee, and the crowd there is small. Tim waves at Bruce from a table in the corner, and Bruce joins him.

“Lucius has something for you.”

“Awesome. I’ll go check it tomorrow after school.” Tim waits until Bruce sits down before pushing a coffee cup and a pastry towards him. “I ordered for you while I waited.”

“Thanks.” Bruce accepts the offered coffee and plate, and settles in on his seat. Being out in public always comes with the risk of someone snapping his picture and selling it, but as he’s just having coffee with Tim, Bruce doubts it will be much interest for many. “How are you and Dick doing? Do you think you’ll manage tonight alone?”

Tim shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “Yes, we’ll manage. Stop worrying so much and have fun on your date.”

“It’s not a date. It’s —“

“You know what I mean.”

Bruce does. But it doesn’t mean he has to accept it without some token resistance. “It’s just work. He’s helping because...”

“Because you two haven’t had a chance to spend a lot of time together recently and you miss each other so much?”

Bruce barely resists the urge to pull a face at Tim. This was the biggest downside to his family knowing about Joker, he decides: the teasing. Especially now that they were getting comfortable with the relationship.

Their conversation drifts to Tim’s studies, and when Tim gets them second cups, Bruce checks his phone, surprised to see Joker has sent him a message inquiring after his whereabouts. Bruce replies to the message, telling Joker Tim is there as well in case Joker is planning something. Tim returns before Joker replies and Bruce puts his phone away, and after a few minutes he forgets about it.

When they’re done with their second cup of coffee, they leave the cafe and head back towards Wayne Enterprises where Alfred is supposed to pick them up from. Bruce even sends him a message informing him they are done, but he also tells Alfred not to hurry.

“Are you coming home or...” Bruce turns his attention from the red lights to Tim, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m thinking library. I have a school thing I need to do. I know I could do it from home, but for the sake of appearing like I’m not a genius or risk becoming a hermit, I think I’m gonna meet up with a few people from class.” Tim’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Bruce hates seeing him like that, even if he understands Tim’s situation perfectly.

“You want a piece of advice?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t—“

The screaming is the first sign something is wrong, the second is the gunfire, and third the gang of what can only be Arkham inmates making themselves known, firing into the crowd, throwing grenades into the traffic and terrorizing the terrified bystanders.

Bruce frowns, pulls out his phone, and curses when he sees Joker’s replay of  _ Great, don’t move _ . Of course Joker had some knowledge of this and he just didn’t bother telling Bruce about it.

Tim is already helping the civilians to hide, but Bruce waves him back. Tim darts to his side and Bruce shows him the messages. Tim groans and Bruce pulls him to the ground before they get shot.

“Did he know about this?” Tim has to raise his voice to be heard over the commotion, and he scrambles to his feet, following Bruce to get to cover.

“Definitely.” Bruce looks around, trying to spot a safe way for him and Tim to disappear and return to the batcave without being noticed.

A car screeches to a stop behind Bruce, ignoring the chaos and the fact that there are signs informing anyone curious that cars aren’t allowed on the sidewalk. It doesn’t surprise Bruce, though, as he recognizes the car as Joker’s. Bruce grabs Tim’s arm and drags him along as he hurries towards the car, happy to take any means of escaping the situation and then finding a way to do something about it.

Joker rolls down his window and grins, and waves at the backseat door. “Need a ride?”

Bruce opens the door and shoves Tim into the car ahead of himself. Joker is already driving away when Bruce pulls the door shut. The demand for an explanation dies in Bruce’s throat when he realizes Nygma is on the front seat with a laptop and a takeaway cup.

“Thanks,” Bruce says, just because he thinks he should say something.

Joker waves his hand. “We were around.”

Nygma looks up slowly, turning to Joker and staring at the side of his face like he’d just become a stranger. “Around?”

Joker shrugs. “The Bowery is around. Expand your definitions and focus on your screen like the adorable little geek you are.”

Nygma rolls his eyes, but his attention returns to his laptop. Tim shuffles on his seat, uncomfortable and anxious. Bruce doesn’t blame him; Tim has never been in a car with one criminal, let alone two without the protection of his Robin armor. Bruce offers him a reassuring smile, and Tim nods minutely, his returning smile shaky and unsure.

It takes Bruce a few seconds longer than he’d like to realize that Nygma is controlling the traffic lights, and he almost asks about it, but a bullet ricochets off the side of the car and it’s far more pressing than why Nygma is tampering with city systems he shouldn’t be tampering with.

Joker sighs and turns to look out of the rear window. “Could you not?”

“Could you drive?” Nygma snaps. Joker sticks his tongue out, but his driving loses the careless edge. The next shot hits the rear window, but the glass doesn’t break. Joker laughs while Nygma slumps down on his seat. Bruce pulls Tim down despite the look Tim gives him for it before turning around to see who is shooting at them.

Joker glances at Bruce, grinning at him. “I think someone’s trying to kill you.”

“A more likely scenario: someone knows whose car this is, and they are trying to kill  _ you, _ ” Nygma says.

“Who would want me dead? I’m a ray of sunshine. If anyone’s getting assassinated it’s you,” Joker counters. “How big the bounty on you is right now? Should I get in on it?”

“Not big enough to be worth it,” Nygma replies without taking his eyes off his laptop. “Go right next.”

The car swerves when Joker follows Nygma’s instructions, and a third shot hits the side of the car. The other cars on the road dodge, a few drivers slamming their hands on their horns, the sound of it following them as they race down the streets. Their assailant follows them, and Bruce shares a concerned look with Tim.

Joker shoves Nygma’s shoulder. “Be a dear and do something about that.”

“I’m trying. Whoever they are, they know how to drive.”

“Are you complimenting someone other than me?”

Nygma waves a hand dismissively. “Pointing out a fact.”

Joker pouts. “You do realize he’s on a motorcycle so he’s riding, not driving? If you look out of the window every now and again you’d know what’s going on around you.”

“Can we talk about this when we’re not being shot at?” Bruce injects just to stop Joker from annoying Nygma into an all out fight. He’s seen enough of that to know the results are not pretty, and he doesn’t want to be in a car with them when that happens.

Bruce turn to Tim. “You okay?”

_ “ _ Yeah. Fine.” He looks too anxious for fine, but Bruce doesn’t mention it. The car veers into a left turn, and Bruce grips Tim’s arm to keep him from toppling.

The sniper keeps firing at the car, slow, calculated shots that hit the rear window in a close formation — trying to break it. Joker pushes the car to its limits, flying into a turn when Nygma tells him to, pretending there are no other cars around. And Nygma does his part to help by taking control of the traffic systems.

Bruce pulls Tim back down when the next shot hits. “Joker.”

“Look, sweetie pie, I’m doing my best here okay? Eddie’s the one fucking up so yell at him.”

“I am not!” Nygma throws an indignant look at Joker for good measure. “I’m hitting all the right marks. But that... height of stupidity refuses to do as he should do and fall behind.”

“If that makes you feel better,” Joker mutters under his breath, and Bruce bites back a smile.

The next turn is accompanied by a shot that cracks the rear window. Joker looks back, frowning at their assailant. Then his eyes widen and his eyes snap back to the road. “Huh.”

Bruce frowns, and Nygma turns to study Joker. “Was that your ‘I know who that is’ huh or —”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure? Because —“

_ “ _ That’s it. Eddie, you’re out. We’re doing this my way.” Joker shoves Nygma and reaches into the glove compartment despite Nygma’s loud protests, ignoring the car veers dangerously close to the sidewalk before Nygma grabs the steering wheel.

If Nygma wasn’t there, Bruce would protest too. Joker ignores Nygma and the glare Bruce throws at him, and pulls out a grenade. He hums a happy tune while he rolls down the window and removes the pin. But he doesn’t throw the grenade immediately.

Bruce grabs a hold of Tim’s arm as the seconds slow down. Eventually Joker throws the grenade. It bounces off the ground, past the car, and explodes right in front of their assailant.

“See? Much better.” Joker grins at Nygma who is not impressed in the slightest. “Where do I drop you off?”

Nygma’s jaw clenches, but he swallows whatever argument he was about to make down. “The corner where we always had pizza? Remember? Near... my old place?”

Joker grins so wide it must hurt by now. “Whatever you want, nerdy brain.”

Nygma sighs and shakes his head, and turns to Bruce. “Didn’t I see you before?”

Bruce shrugs.

“I did. You were at the asylum.” Nygma turns to Joker while Bruce and Tim share a worried glance. “Why is he here?”

“I like his dick,” Joker replies with a perfect poker face. Bruce suppresses a groan while Tim stifles a sound somewhere between a amused and alarmed.

Nygma narrows his eyes. “Are you avoiding?”

“Nope. I’m an open book.” Joker smiles. “No secrets here, no reasons to avoid anything.”

“Liar,” Nygma accuses.

Bruce sends Alfred a quick text saying he and Tim are alright before turning to Tim. “Are you okay?”

Tim nods, and Bruce believes him. “I might have to cancel my library meeting. I don’t think I can make it anymore.”

“You could reschedule,” Bruce suggests. Tim nods again.

The argument on the front seat is getting heated, so Bruce turns his attention to that now that he’s sure Tim is well. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

Joker rolls his eyes while Nygma gets that pleased look he gets when he has a chance to educate someone. “A friend might be a too strong of a word, but we have known each other for a long time. We even used to live across the street from each other —“

Joker pulls out a gun and presses it against Nygma’s temple. “You wanna shut it?”

“Yes,” Nygma replies immediately.

“Atta boy.” Joker pulls the revolver away and Nygma returns to his laptop. The last fifteen minutes of the trip go in tense silence. When Joker pulls the car over, Nygma bids a hurried goodbye and disappears from the car.

As soon as he’s gone, Joker turns to Bruce. “Wanna come over here?”

Bruce glances at Tim who shrugs. So he gets to the front seat, much to Joker’s delight. As Bruce settles in his seat, Joker starts the car and drives off.

“Were you going somewhere?” Joker asks a minute later, glancing at both Tim and Bruce.

“Alfred is waiting at Wayne Enterprises,” Bruce replies.

Joker hums. “You’re buying gas then. I’m not sure we have enough to get that far.”

Bruce grimaces. They’d been too close to get gunned down. “Sure.”

“You’re going out tonight?” Tim asks, leaning forward to better look at Joker. Bruce sighs and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes until he sees spots.

“He can’t manage without me,” Joker says, a delighted smile on his lips. “I mean what kind of a rodent-detective can’t find a secret stash? I bet Basil would’ve already solved the whole thing.”

Tim turns to Bruce, cocking an eyebrow and trying not to smile. Bruce narrows his eyes.

“You go play in the kiddie pool while we adults do adult things,” Joker continues. “I’ll make sure he comes through it in one peace.”

Tim’s eyebrow rises higher and he stops fighting his smile. Bruce turns to look out of the window, refusing to deign to answer despite Joker’s laughter and Tim’s stifled chuckle.

And if Bruce smiles a little, then that’s his business and no one else's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are probably gonna be slow for a while since I'm doing commissions on twitter and I'm apartment hunting, but I'll do my best to be as quick with an update as I can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, I'm trying to get used to a new schedule dominated mostly by school.

The air in the empty hall is dry and stale. The scent of chemicals lingers, but it’s not strong enough for Bruce to worry about. His focus is on the footprints and large circles on the dust covered floor — all that is left of the chemicals that were stolen from Joker.

“Well?”

Bruce closes his eyes, wishing he wasn’t wearing his cowl so that he could rub his temples. “I need a minute.”

“So much for world’s greatest detective,” Joker retorts.

“You could help,” Bruce points out, turning to Joker who’s still leaning against the wall, twiddling his phone.

Joker barks an exaggerated laugh. “Yes, me, a world class criminal, helping  _ you _ solve crimes. Now  _ that’s  _ funny.” He’s grown incredibly unhelpful with the investigation after their little car chase incident earlier, and Bruce doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t question it — yet. For now he focuses on examining the area.

Bruce examines the footprints again and collects all the data he can of them and the circles from the places where the barrels had been. He tracks the steps from the hall, out to the chill, salty winds of the docks. There had to have been a truck here.

“Alfred, pull all camera records from...” Bruce turns to Joker who’s now trailing after him.

“I dunno.”

“Before the fire.” Bruce frowns and returns his attention to Joker. “When was the last time you saw the barrels?”

Joker sighs and makes a show of thinking about it. “A week before the fire?”

“Make it ten days,” Bruce tells Alfred.

The rain and daily traffic would have destroyed the evidence of the truck, but Bruce still examines the area, coming up with only possible scenarios of how the theft could have gone down and no evidence to back it up.

“So do you have other ideas?” Joker asks. “Since this is clearly a dead end.”

“It’s not a dead end,” Bruce replies absently.

“Well yay for that.” If Joker’s voice got any more sarcastic Bruce would officially have to tell Alfred he’s been dethroned as the master of sarcasm. As it is, Bruce ignores Joker in favor of considering his surroundings.

“This is boring,” Joker says after a few seconds. “I thought there’d be more people being beaten up and less standing around doing nothing.”

“Play nice and we can go a round later,” Bruce replies.

“Promises promises.”

At the rate Joker is going, Bruce could be tempted to punch him sooner rather than later just to cheer Joker up. Bruce has stopped hurting Joker to the point where he needs more than an ice pack to treat a bruise or a busted lip, just like Joker has stopped stabbing Bruce with intent to cause more than a minor injury. He still likes to whack Bruce with heavy objects, but at least he holds back. It’s more sparring than fighting, and since their mock chases and fights keep Joker happy, Bruce lets himself enjoy the challenge Joker still poses.

It keeps them both on their toes, and more often than not, they end up in bed (assuming they make it that far). And it keeps people from wondering why Batman and Joker aren’t fighting anymore.

“Darling?”

“Joker.”

“Can we just go beat up homeless people?”

Bruce hangs his head and sighs. There’s not much for them to do there anymore, so they might as well do something that makes them both happy before returning to investigating the Arkham case. “There’s a gang down in the Fashion District that’s been causing trouble,” Bruce offers, and Joker grins.

“Lets go already!” Joker skips to Bruce’s side and grabs his arm, and pulls him towards the car. “It’ll be fun. I can distract them and then you can beat them up, and then we can... do something else.”

The something else will be returning to investigating the Arkham case, whether Joker likes it or not. It needs to be solved.

Bruce drives Joker to where the gang likes to hang out, and allows Joker to saunter into the bar and cause a scene. Bruce waits until he hears gunshots and sees people running from the bar before joining them.

Joker makes himself a cocktail with a little umbrella while Bruce beats the gang unconscious. When the only sound in the bar is the rock music playing from the stereo, Bruce joins Joker and accepts the offered shot of bourbon.

“I adore you,” Joker says, grinning over his drink, his eyes bright and warm. Bruce can’t help but smile, though he tries to hide it by downing his drink. “We should do this more often,” Joker continues.

Instead of replying, Bruce grabs Joker by the collar and pulls him into a rough kiss. Joker laughs, the sound muffled against Bruce’s lips, warming Bruce better than any alcohol ever could.

“I love you too,” Joker breathers when they pull apart just enough to breathe. Bruce smiles and kisses Joker again.

When they pull back again, Bruce lets go of Joker and sighs. “We need to get back to work.”

Joker makes a face. “Nah. Lets get wasted and have extremely creative sex.”

As tempting as it is (and Bruce is tempted, really; Joker’s acceptance that Bruce Wayne and Batman are one and the same, while still occasionally wavering, has opened some rather interesting venues for them to explore), Bruce has to decline. Joker pouts and makes himself another brightly colored cocktail just to stall Bruce, but eventually they continue hunting down the thief who had dared to steal from Joker.

They find little of any interest, only hearing a mildly interesting rumor or two as they search the darkest corners of Gotham’s underworld, and when the sun begins to rise Bruce returns to the manor while Joker leaves to talk with his contacts.

A part of their arrangement, changing as it may be, is that Bruce isn’t allowed to pry into Joker’s business, as Joker calls it. Bruce doesn’t pry into Joker’s things, and Joker doesn’t pry into his; they tell each other what they feel like sharing and that’s it. It’s a good arrangement, Bruce thinks, even if he’d love nothing more than to find out who Joker thinks might know about the theft when Bruce hadn’t been able to find anything on it. But if Bruce looks into it, Joker would look into his ongoing investigations, and Bruce doesn’t want that; Joker with detailed information on all the other criminals and their operations is the last thing Bruce needs in that moment.

Bruce sleeps until noon and sends Joker a text asking if he’d come up with anything before returning to his own investigations. Joker doesn’t respond for several hours, and when he does it’s an unhelpful  _ nope :( _ followed by a series of pictures of Pumpkin that Joker hopes will cheer Bruce up.

It doesn’t, but Bruce appreciates the thought nonetheless.

* * *

Bruce wonders, sometimes, if whoever had set Arkham on fire had counted on so many patients escaping and distracting Bruce and the police so effectively. When his mood is darker, he wonders if someone had helped so many of the patients escape custody and the Asylum.

He almost voices these thoughts to Tim and Dick, but at the last second he thinks better of it.

The only person Bruce mentions it to is Joker, who is silent for a long moment before stating he’s disappointed it took Bruce so long to come to the conclusion that had been obvious to him since day one. Bruce shoves Joker off the bed, smiling at the indignant yelp and laughter that follows Joker’s contact with the floor.

* * *

Dick returns to Bludhaven for the time being. He assures and then reassures Bruce that he’ll be back as soon as he can, but his city needs Nightwing so he has to go. Not that Bruce was trying to stop him from leaving; he knows Dick has a responsibility to Bludhaven, and Bruce would never keep him back.

Just like Bruce refuses to let Tim slack off with school, no matter how much Tim tries.

“It’s chemistry,” Tim groans when Bruce orders him to stay in and study. “I’ll be fine.”

Bruce grits his teeth — at Tim’s attitude or at the number of plain black vans in Gotham, he’s not sure — and pulls the image of the van that might have been the one used in the chemical theft. Alfred had found the van as he’d gone through security camera footage, but the camera that had captured the van had been far enough from Joker’s stash that Bruce has doubts. “If you don’t get an A on that test I’ll have Joker tutor you.”

Tim laughs, but when Bruce doesn’t smile his laughter dies out, replaced by a wary expression. “Seriously?”

“He’s the best chemist I know, so yeah. I’m sure he’d like to have you as a student.”

Tim nods. “I think I’m gonna study. Better to ace the test first time around so that I don’t have to spend extra time on the subject, right? Especially with all that’s going on.”

Bruce quirks an eyebrow, giving Tim his full attention. “You’d trust Joker to watch your back while Nygma tries to kill you with one of his death traps, but a bit of chemistry is too much?”

“I’d be more comfortable alone in one of Nygma’s traps than in the same room with Joker and chemicals,” Tim replies. “I’m pretty sure the death trap is less likely to kill me.”

Bruce can’t fault his logic. And at least he got Tim to focus on school for one night. “Don’t tell Joker I said he’s the best chemist I know. His ego doesn’t need to get any bigger than it already is.”

Tim huffs and shakes his head. “Sure.”

Bruce watches Tim leave the batcave before returning his attention to the van, but he has no idea what his next move should be. He blames it on working on the same thing for hours, and his mind needs a break, no matter how much Bruce would want to force himself to work for another few hours. With a sigh, Bruce tears his attention from the screen and rubs his eyes. He should get something to eat.

Instead Bruce picks his phone up and calls Joker. He has to wait nearly half a minute for Joker to pick up, but one thing they have agreed as they try to settle into the new dynamic of their relationship is that they always answer each other, or at least text if they don’t want to talk (mostly so that Joker lets Bruce know he’s mad and doesn’t disappear without a word again). And if they can’t pick up or text back, they do so as soon as they’re able, even if it’s just to let the other know they’re alive and busy.

“ _ ’ _ sup sweetie cakes.” Joker’s voice is infectiously cheery, and Bruce can’t help but smile.

“There are too many black vans in Gotham,” Bruce says. “I can’t find the one from the security feed.”

Joker sighs. “I wish I could help you but I’m all out of mysterious black vans. I’ve got a blue one if you need one. I think. I might have given it to Jervis in exchange for a... thing.”

“I don’t want to know.” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Ever.”

“Now that’s a shame.” The pout is painfully clear in Joker’s voice. “I was hoping to surprise you.”

Anything Jervis Tetch could have given Joker is bound to bring horrors with it, but Bruce keeps that to himself; he didn’t call Joker to pick a fight. “Is it... it’s not drugs or anything involving murder or...?”

“Nah, just clothing,” Joker replies. “And a tea set for Jonny.”

“The Mad Hatter kind of clothing?”

Joker hums, thinking it over for a second too long for Bruce’s liking. “Not really. It’s not gonna mindfuck anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Bruce allows himself a relieved smile and shakes his head. “Good. So. What are you doing?”

“Same old same old.”

“Meaning?”

“You really wanna know about my criminal activities? Or is it enough for you to know that I’m not actively planning on killing anyone?”

“I guess it’s can be enough,” Bruce replies, trying to keep hesitation from creeping into his voice.

“So you do wanna know what I’m doing? Or does that cramp your crime fighting style too much?” Joker’s amusement is clear in his voice, and Bruce is half tempted to tell him to shut up. “Shoot,” he says instead, and sits down.

“I’m robbing Falcone,” Joker declares. “Apparently he’s got a special chemical Crane wants his strawy hands on, and if I get it first... well, it’s good for me, less good for Crane. You know how it is. So if you know Falcone’s safe’s combination or something, now would be a good time to tell me.”

“No, sorry. But I do know they’ve upped the security in the yard recently, so you might want to watch out for that. And let me look at the chemical when you find it?”

“Anything for you muffin.”

They really need to have a long conversation about Joker’s use of petnames.

“Where did you lose the van?” Joker asks out of the blue, casual in the way that never bodes well. Bruce checks the feed of the van and gives Joker the address regardless. Joker hums and Bruce focuses on that rather than the sound of a car door opening and closing. “I assume you have an inkling of what you’re doing and you checked the nearby parking lots? And the garage in the corner there? Did you know that a lot of people go there to get stuff done to their cars in a hurry? They have great rentals too. Easy to take your car there at any time of the day and get another car without getting cops on your tail quickly. Assuming you’ve got money of course, they’re hardworking people there so they need the compensation.”

Bruce frowns. He’s aware of the questionable things many businesses involving cars do, and he had considered checking the garage in question out, even if he doubts anyone would take a van full of twice stolen chemicals to a garage and switch cars there. Still, if Joker is thinking along those lines... “I’ll check it out. You focus on... robbing Falcone.”

“As you wish,” Joker says, cheery and light once again. “I gotta go. I’ll stop by later.”

Joker hangs up and Bruce sighs and gets back to work.

* * *

Alfred is the one to ask about the shooting, and why Bruce isn’t looking into it as deeply as he probably should. Bruce makes excuses about priorities, but the truth is that he’s waiting.

Joker had recognized the person shooting at them, and Nygma noticing it only confirmed it. So Bruce tells himself (desperately tries to convince himself) that there’s no point in searching for the shooter when all he has to do is wait until Joker is relaxed and in good enough mood to make him willing to talk.

He just needs to wait a little.

Patience, Bruce has discovered, is a key to a successful relationship with Joker.

* * *

True to his word, Joker stops by later. Though later turns out to be three days after the call in the middle of the night, while Bruce is patrolling the streets. Joker doesn’t mind, he’s happy to hang in the manor and wait for Bruce to get back home.

Knowing Joker is in the manor and with how tired Bruce and Tim are, Bruce tells Tim he’s free to take over the penthouse if he wants, an offer Tim is happy to take. Bruce heads back to the manor alone, tired and aching all over. He’s looking forward to curling in bed with Joker, and sleeping late into the noon.

As soon as he enters the batcave, Bruce tells Alfred to go to bed already; he looks exhausted from having kept an eye on Joker while helping Bruce and Tim in the rare moments Barbara was too busy. Alfred is more than happy to leave Bruce to ensure that Joker doesn’t burn the manor down around them, and Bruce chuckles while he heads to take a quick shower and put on fresh clothes.

By the time Bruce enters the manor the sun is creeping up in the horizon, coloring the sky with beautiful shades of red and orange. The manor is quiet as Bruce walks through it, looking for Joker without a hurry. He eventually finds him in the library, half a dozen books lying around the chairs and table, opened at random pages. A cup of coffee from the kitchen has been left by one of the books on the table, along with an empty to-go cup from the all-night coffee house that had recently opened its doors near the Wayne Tower.

“You were out late,” Joker muses, his back turned to Bruce. “Should I start worrying you’re seeing someone else behind my back?”

Bruce shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “Never.”

“Good,” Joker says, already lost interest in the conversation if the flat tone of his voice is anything to go by.

Bruce frowns and bridges the distance between them, a chill running down his spine when he sees the picture of Jason in Joker’s hands. If Joker notices Bruce’s change in mood, he doesn’t show it; he simply frowns at the picture, chewing his lip. Bruce almost tears the picture from Joker’s hands. He almost snaps at Joker, almost tells him to never touch the picture again.

But he doesn’t.

Joker glances at Bruce, his stance morphing from somewhat tense to carefree in a matter of seconds. He grins and waves the picture, and places it haphazardly on the table. “You poor thing, you look exhausted.”

Bruce should take the offered out of the situation. He should force himself to smile and takes Joker’s hand, and pull him into the bedroom, kiss him and strip him from his expensive suit. That would be the smart thing to do, but Bruce can’t make his face move, he can’t force himself to speak.

He’s quiet a second too long, and Joker’s grin falls. He huffs and looks around the room, shuffling a bit away from Bruce. “Do you want me to apologize?”

_ Yes _ , Bruce thinks. “No,” is what he says. Any apology Joker would give him, no matter how well intended, would be empty. It would not be real, and it only would anger Bruce, and hurt Joker.

“You sure?” Joker eyes Bruce, and Bruce does his best to not flinch under the scrutiny. “You look like you’ve got something to say.”

Bruce shifts. Yes, he does have a lot to say, but it could destroy what they have and Bruce doesn’t want that. Not after everything they’ve been through to get to where they are.

Joker sighs and rolls his eyes. “Just say what you wanna say, promise I won’t be mad.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Bruce replies quietly, finally moving deeper into the room. He pretends to inspect the books on the shelves, his back turned to Joker. “If we talk about this, we can’t put it back in its box and ignore it, and I don’t want to ruin us just because...”

Joker is silent for a long moment, until it becomes clear Bruce is not going to finish his thought. “Well, I don’t want to ruin us because you wanna pretend something didn’t happen. I know you. You’re gonna explode sooner or later.”

Joker has a point and Bruce hate it, just a little. He turns, his gaze finding Joker’s, and they study each other in tense silence. It grows too much to bear too quickly, and Bruce has to look away. “I just... I don’t — it’s not that I haven’t... you’re you.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

“How would you even know what’s best?” Bruce snaps, throwing a glare at Joker. “What, now you’re suddenly proficient in emotional awareness or something? You can’t fix what you did, and I don’t want you thinking it’s worth talking about destroying us.”

Joker laughs. “Just because I don’t give a shit about what most people think or feel doesn’t mean I’m blind to it, you know? At my level I kinda have to be better at reading people than all the shrinks at Arkham — sorry, former Arkham — combined. I can see the little cogs in your brain smoking with the need to yell at me, so don’t try to deny it.” Joker spreads his arms and, infuriatingly, smiles. “So come at me. You get a freebie.”

Bruce wants to punch Joker, and when Joker saunters up to him, still wearing that happy smile of his, Bruce does just that. Joker staggers back, his hand coming to his mouth, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

It’s not the first time Bruce has punched Joker, and they both know it won’t be the last, but as Joker straightens up, blood oozing from his split lip, all fight leaves Bruce.

“Feel better?” Joker asks, cocking his head and raising a brow.

“No,” Bruce sighs. He knows better than to apologize for the strike, so he keeps the need to do so at bay as he searches for the right words to say. “Just... explain what you were thinking?”

A long, loaded moments passes, during which Joker doesn’t speak; doesn’t move. Bruce remains still as well, staying silent, patiently waiting for Joker to decide if he wants to speak.

Eventually Joker sighs, grabs the whiskey bottle he’d most likely stolen from Bruce from the small table by one of the chairs, and slumps down with it. Bruce watches him drink straight from the bottle, his brows drawn together, lost in thought.

“You paid more attention to him than me,” Joker says after a while, his voice so quiet Bruce almost misses it. Bruce crosses his arms and bites his tongue to keep quiet as Joker continues. “And you always dragged him everywhere you went. It was never just us anymore, it was always you, me, and your asshole kid.”

Joker glances at Bruce, watching his reaction closely. “At least Big Bird knew when he was better off sticking to the background.”

It’s true that whereas Dick was always okay letting Bruce go after Joker while Dick took care of the henchmen, Jason had itched to take on Joker himself, often calling insults back at Joker, even when Joker had addressed Batman and not Robin. Bruce had, on more than one occasion, warned Jason against such behavior, but to no avail.

When Bruce doesn’t say anything, Joker shrugs and takes a swig from his bottle. “When you sent him after me even though I’d specifically told you not to do that I figured that if you couldn’t handle a kid then I’d have to do it for you,” he says, but his voice has taken that light tone Bruce has come to associate with Joker hiding something.

Bruce almost presses the matter, but he’s exhausted in more ways than one, and Joker isn’t offering Bruce anything he wasn’t already aware of, even if he’s not making light of the situation anymore. For a moment, Bruce hopes Joker was back to joking about what had happened, of how much he hated Jason getting in the way. If Joker made light of it, then Bruce could find the energy to get mad.

If Joker made light of what had happened, Bruce could pretend he could have prevented everything if he’d just been a little harsher with Jason, if he’d just made sure Jason didn’t get in Joker’s way, because Bruce had seen Joker’s anger at Jason constantly being there growing. He’d watched it go from flash hot anger to a deep, simmering rage and he hadn’t done anything, because he had thought... he’s not sure what he had thought, anymore.

“I’m going to bed,” Bruce says, his voice flat in a way that catches Joker’s attention. Bruce nods at the room. “You can... you can come, too. Or you can stay here, or go. I don’t care. Just — I need sleep.”

With that, Bruce leaves. Joker doesn’t follow him, and Bruce goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, not really caring if Joker joins him or not.

Bruce is half asleep when the bed dips and Joker rests his chin on Bruce’s shoulder, his fingers tapping Bruce’s bicep gently. “You asleep yet?”

Bruce makes a disgruntled noise.

“Because I don’t want you to be mad at me. You shouldn’t go to bed mad at the love of your life.”

Bruce can’t help but snort into his pillow. “We need to do something about those delusions of grandeur of yours.”

“Later. Right now, you need to not be mad at me.” Joker pokes Bruce’s arm for emphasis. Bruce sighs and rolls over to face Joker. He takes in the exaggerated pout and how it clashes with the hesitant glint in Joker’s eyes, and not for the first time Bruce marvels at the fact that Joker allows him to see glimpses of the real emotion behind the mask he wears.

“I’m not mad, I’m just... I’m tired, okay? I’m tired and I want to sleep,” Bruce says, rubbing his eyes. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

Joker tilts his head. “You do realize it’s morning right now.”

Bruce narrows his eyes and doesn’t dignify to answer.

“I just don’t want you to get weird when you wake up,” Joker says when Bruce remains silent too long.

“Weird?”

“Yeah, you know —” Joker waves a hand in a long arc “— weird. You do that when you’re mad and you’re pretending you’re not. I don’t like it.”

Bruce blinks up at Joker. “I won’t get weird.”

“You say that now, but can you be sure?”

“I’ll be weird if you don’t let me get to sleep, okay? I really need sleep.” Bruce stares at Joker until Joker pouts and shrugs, and pushes himself off Bruce.

“Fine. But if you get weird, I’m gonna make you regret it.”

Bruce smiles despite himself, and settles back under the covers. “Just go to sleep.”

Joker grumbles as he strips his clothes off, and he elbows Bruce needlessly hard when he crawls into the bed next to him, but he curls next to Bruce and quiets down, and Bruce, already half asleep, wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now, updates are gonna be dependent on how much time and energy uni leaves me with, and hopefully things will smooth out soon so that I can get back to a more regular writing schedule.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took embarrassingly long to get updated. I blame it on uni and Dragon Age.

“Are you moving in, now?” Bruce asks, frowning at the sight of Joker drawing something on Tim’s hand, a small UV flashlight in his mouth while Tim pretends he’s entirely comfortable with it. The table is filled with pens and lights and small jars, and Bruce doesn’t want to know what half of the stuff is.

“I wouldn’t do that to Jonny,” Joker replies without taking his eyes off of Tim’s hand, his voice muffled by the flashlight.

Bruce nods slowly. “What are you doing?”

“Forging,” Joker replies, a small frown appearing on his face as he leans closer to Tim’s hand.

Bruce turns to Tim, who shrugs one shoulder. “Dick and I tracked the dealer into an exclusive underground club. He agreed to help us get in.” Tim nods towards Joker, who has immersed himself in carefully drawing on Tim’s hand.

For a moment Bruce considers saying something, but he hasn’t had his morning coffee yet and he decides it’s not worth the trouble and headache. He’ll reconsider his stance on the matter after coffee. “And Dick?” He still asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“He’ll be here in a moment; he went to see Babs,” Tim replies. “He’s already agreed to this,” he adds, expecting Bruce to convince Dick to abandon their plan.

Bruce has to admit the thought did briefly crossed his mind, but he’s not going to say so out loud. Instead, he goes to find himself some coffee.

The conversation he had with Joker last night tries to occupy his mind, but Bruce pushes it back down; he’d promised Joker things would be normal, and he intends to keep it that way. There’s no point in starting a fight about something that happened in the past, something Bruce has more or less come to terms with. And if Bruce is honest, he’s not ready to truly sit down with Joker and talk about the one thing that could tear them apart.

Bruce almost laughs, not for the first time wondering how he ended up in a place where he’s comfortable telling Joker he loves him, and where Joker sitting in his kitchen helping Tim infiltrate an underground club is normal. Bruce is almost certain that if he starts thinking about it too deeply, he might lose his mind, so he accepts it as his new normal and rolls with it.

“They seem to be getting along,” Alfred says behind Bruce’s back, startling him.

Bruce swirls around, giving Alfred his best indignant look, justifying it with the lack of coffee he’s experiencing that morning. It only amuses Alfred, of course, but Bruce decides not to care. “Yeah. It’s... it’s good. Right? Them getting along.”

Alfred hands Bruce his coffee — Bruce takes a moment to just enjoy the sweet smell of it — and nods. “Yes, I’d like to think so.”

It’s all Bruce needs to hear for now, and he focuses on getting breakfast and checking the news while Joker finishes with Tim’s hand and waves the just arrived Dick to take a seat.

Bruce watches on as Joker draws on Dick’s hand, unable to hold back a small smile despite Dick’s displeased frown and the close way he watches Joker’s every move.

When Joker releases Dick, Tim pulls him away, leaving Bruce alone with Joker. Bruce finishes his coffee while Joker packs up his pens and flashlights.

“You’re gonna get weird now?” Joker asks without taking his eyes off of his several pens.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m more concerned with whoever set Arkham on fire than with starting a fight with you right now.” Bruce smiles to soften his words, and after Joker scrutinizes Bruce for a minutes, he relaxes and grins.

“Gotcha. Anything I can help with?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Really? After the last time?”

Joker shrugs. “If you’re gonna start beating people up, come get me. I’m getting bored which should _not_ be happening with all the loonies on the loose.”

Bruce shakes his head and smiles. Only Joker could be bored in a city nearly overrun by the criminally insane. Bruce knows — and the emotion it fills him with is something Bruce refuses to examine too closely — that Joker is keeping to the edges of the chaos for Bruce’s sake.

He should really make it up to Joker somehow.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” Joker says as he finishes packing his things up. “So if you need me you’re gonna have to get in line.”

Bruce nods. “Have fun.”

Joker quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t tempt me.”

Bruce only smiles, not bothering to tell Joker not to kill anyone; he’s done that often enough by now. Whatever Joker does, he’ll do it knowing Bruce’s opinions on his various crimes.

Joker kisses Bruce goodbye and skips out of the room, leaving Bruce to go on about his day in peace.

* * *

Bruce ends up going to the bank, as he’s been meaning to do it for a week now and it’s the kind of stressful, normal thing that should ease the tension the Arkham situation is causing him. The people Bruce passes are on edge, cautious now that Arkham is not there to hold the most dangerous people behind bars, away from the innocent citizens.

The bank has upped the security measures as well, and Bruce dutifully goes through all the checks the security team wants him to go through, smiling politely to ease the discomfort the officers try to hide at having to explain to Bruce Wayne that they can’t just allow him to go and meet with Meyers, the director who always insists on taking care of Bruce’s business himself. Bruce doesn’t mind the arrangement, as Meyers is capable and less likely to steal from the bank as the last director had been.

When Bruce finally enters Meyers’ office, he returns the handshake offered to him, politely inquiring about Meyers’ wellbeing.

“I’m fine. How about you?” Meyers replies as he settles back behind his desk, arranging his already neat desk as he does so. Bruce has noticed his tendency for getting focused on order when things get stressful, and today is no different — even his graying hair is neatly arranged and the frameless glasses sitting on his nose are carefully cleaned.

“Everything’s great,” Bruce replies, as he always does. It’s a familiar exchange between them, one they always have before moving on to the official business.

“Now,” Meyers starts, frowning at his computer. “There seems to be a bit of a discrepancy — nothing serious, just something I wanted to clear up — in one of your accounts. A rather large sum of money was cashed a few days ago, not large enough to raise the alarms and done with all the correct clearances, but as that doesn’t usually happen and you didn’t do it personally, I wanted to make sure you were aware of it.”

Bruce frowns. “How much?”

Meyers writes the number down for Bruce, and Bruce holds his surprise back. “Let me make a call?” Meyers nods, and Bruce stands, pulling his phone out and dialing Joker.

“Hi, honey,” Bruce starts with too much cheeriness.

“Ouch, that sounded painful. You wanna try again?” Joker replies.

Bruce laughs. “Remember when I said you could cash the money you need?”

“That’s never happened, but if you’re offering I’m not turning that down. I just hope you know how much money I need depends on a day, and I’m prepared to clean your accounts, sugarplum.”

Bruce forces himself to smile and nod along. “Yeah, did you cash it?”

Joker is silent for a moment, then he laughs. “You have no idea how much I want to fuck with you right now.” Bruce hums, refusing to let his smile drop. “But no, I haven’t touched your money recently.”

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure how much you needed for that...” Bruce frowns, wondering what he should use as a fake purchase.

“Highly experimental drugs and the several sex toys for us to try out, honey cakes?”

Bruce silently curses Joker, though his smile grows a little more genuine. “That. Yeah. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“Definitely worth it,” Joker laughs. “And if someone stole from you, I’m willing to deal with them. No one messes with my muffinpuff.”

Bruce is going to make Joker suffer for those damned petnames. There has to be a line drawn somewhere. “Nah, I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so, cutie patootie. Just remember that the offer stands.”

“Sure,” Bruce says, taking comfort in imagining all the ways he is going to ensure Joker stops with the whole the petname thing. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya, honey cakes.” Joker hangs up before Bruce can accidentally call him out on the petnames.

Bruce takes a moment to collect himself before turning back to Meyers. “Sorry, new relationship and all that. It’s all cleared, I forgot the exact cost of this thing I agreed to pay for, so the thing is settled.”

Meyers’ shoulders relax. “Oh. That’s good.”

Bruce returns to his seat, and though he listens to Meyers and pays attention to everything he needs to pay attention to, his mind is on the missing money. If he’s lucky, it’s nothing too serious _—_ maybe one of the kids just forgot to tell him that they needed the money — but until he gets to the bottom of the problem Bruce is going to take it seriously, if for no other reason than the fact that someone has cashed just enough money to not raise alarms, which Bruce cannot believe is a coincidence.

* * *

“Are you sure none of you took the money?” Bruce asks one last time, earning himself a tired sigh from Barbara.

“Yes. I’ve checked and double checked with everyone — even you — but none of us cashed in your money. We don’t even need to! We’ve got our own income.” The frustration is clear in her voice, and Bruce doesn’t have to see her to know she’s scowling, not because of Bruce, but because of the situation they’re in. “You sure it wasn’t Joker?”

Bruce bites his lip before answering. “Yes. He prefers credit card fraud to cashing in; he thinks it’s funnier if I get a bill and have to pay for his purchases than taking the money and doing it himself. I know he could find out the details to all of my accounts and get the money out, but this isn’t his doing. It’s someone else.”

“Someone who knew how much to get to not raise any alarms on top of every other detail they’d need to know to get money from your accounts,” Barbara says. “Comforting.”

“Yeah. Think you can solve it?” Bruce asks, smiling a little.

Barbara huffs. “Now you’re questioning my abilities?”

Bruce’s smile widens. “Sorry. Of course not. Just keep me updated?”

“You got it.”

They end the call, and Bruce returns back to studying the reports Lucius had handed him the moment he’d entered his office at the Wayne Enterprises. He’s got a lot of work to catch up on, and he spends the rest of the day doing just that. By the time the sun disappears behind the skyline, Bruce’s eyes are dry from reading.

There’s too much for Batman to do, just as there’s too much for Bruce Wayne to do these days. He’s not looking forward to either.

When Bruce finally takes to the streets for the night, he’s already tired. He checks on Tim and Dick, and they inform him that the club Joker helped them infiltrate is far more interesting than they originally anticipated, but that they have yet to lay eyes on their dealer.

Without the additional help, Bruce focuses on checking up on ongoing cases, taking a few criminals out along the way. He ends up spending longer than he would have preferred chasing down a lead on a murder investigation, but eventually he finds the killer — an Arkham inmate who comes with him quietly — and takes her in.

Gordon is exhausted when Bruce stops by to see him, the bags below his eyes more prominent than Bruce has seen in a long time, his skin pale and his shoulders tense.

“Do you ever rest?” Gordon asks, his voice tired. Bruce doesn’t reply, but Gordon isn’t expecting him to. “Never mind,” he says moments later, running a hand through his hair. “I did have something more pressing I wanted to talk about.”

“What is it?”

“The Arkham inmate issue.”

Of course. It’s the most pressing matter on everyone’s mind; even the mayor is using it to strengthen his position and try to get re-elected. The inmates are on the streets, and when they’re caught, there’s no place to put them in. At the moment, an old wing in Blackgate has been cleared for them, but there’s not enough space and the conditions aren’t suitable for people desperately in need of psychiatric help.

“The best thing to do would be to relocate the non-violent patients at another institute for now,” Bruce says. “The violent ones... perhaps a deal could be made with another institute that cares for the criminally insane.”

“That would take a lot of money,” Gordon points out. “Money Gotham doesn’t have.”

“Bruce Wayne does.” It’s always a little strange for Bruce to talk about himself as a stranger, but he also finds it amusing, in a way. “And the mayor could use the good press. I’m sure he’d figure something out.”

Gordon sighs. “I’ll talk to the mayor. Tomorrow.”

Bruce waits for Gordon to say something else, and after a few seconds, Gordon rubs the back of his head and frowns. “I’m sure you’re already aware, but there’s word that Firefly might be around.”

Bruce has heard of it. “I’ll look into it.”

As soon as Gordon looks away, Bruce leaves the rooftop quietly, enjoying being able to disappear without notice.

“Oracle?”

“Yes?”

“Firefly might be back, can you see if there are any signs of him?” Bruce settles on a fire escape as he waits for Barbara to check her trackers.

“Hmm, I can’t be sure. There are some minor things that might suggest his presence, but nothing concrete. I’m going to have to get back to you on that,” she says eventually.

“Preferably before he sets something on fire,” Bruce replies, and his tone is light enough for Barbara to pretend laughing.

“You know, you’re a lot cheerier these days,” Barbara starts. “Is it because —“

“I need to go,” Bruce cuts in, and disconnects the comm line. He pointedly does not think about his mood as he heads to the nearest known hideout Firefly likes to use.

* * *

Firefly is nowhere to be found, but it doesn’t ease Bruce’s mind. Barbara informs him that there is a high chance he’s in town, and Bruce wants to find him before he starts lighting things on fire.

But not right now; the sun is creeping up the horizon, and Bruce needs to get off the streets. Bruce considers heading back to the manor, but it’s too far away. As he grapnels through the city, he briefly entertains the idea of going to the penthouse, but he doesn’t take the turn there. Instead, he heads to Joker’s home, hoping he’ll be there instead of in one of his many safehouses.

To Bruce’s relief, Joker is at his home, and Bruce grapnels to the wall by his bedroom window, knocking on it while he clings to the wall with all the strength he has so that he won’t fall. It takes a moment, but eventually Joker pulls the curtains aside and peeks through the window, a bright grin replacing the frown as he spots Bruce.

Joker opens the window, and sticks his head out. “My parents are gonna kill us if they find out about this. You know I’m not supposed to let boys climb through my window.”

Bruce shoves Joker inside and climbs through the window. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, I know you will,” Joker laughs as Bruce takes him into his arms, lifts him off the ground and shoves him against the wall with enough force to hurt before kissing him. Joker moans, his nails digging into the seams of Bruce’s armor and into his cape, trying to pull Bruce closer. Bruce bites Joker’s lips, reveling in the delighted sigh it pulls from Joker.

Bruce would love nothing more than to keep kissing Joker, to take things further, but the wound he’d sustained during the night hasn’t been checked yet, and he’d like to get it treated as soon as possible. “Can I ask for a favor?” Bruce murmurs against Joker’s lips.

Joker hums. “Sure.”

"Stitch me up?”

Joker laughs, the soft, breathless kind of laugh that sounds too sane coming from him. “If you insist.”

Bruce lowers Joker to the ground and strips his armor off while Joker goes off in search for the things he’ll need in order to patch Bruce up. Once he’s out of his armor, Bruce heads to the kitchen to get himself a much needed glass of water.

“Sit down,” Joker says as he enters the room, and Bruce takes a second to nod before filling his glass again and taking it with him to the table.

Joker eyes the wound on Bruce’s shoulder like it’s personally offending him, and sets out to clean it as soon as Bruce sits down. He’s gentle but sure in his movements, and Bruce closes his eyes, happy to let Joker tend to his injuries. He doesn’t open his eyes even when Joker starts stitching the wound up, and for a moment Bruce marvels that he’s ended up there, comfortable with Joker tending to him and trusting him not to injure him with the needle after everything they’ve been through.

Eventually Joker declares he’s finished, and presses his face into Bruce’s shoulder. “Go shower. You stink and I’m willing to bet you’re gonna infect that if you don’t. And it’s kinda disgusting.”

Bruce snorts. “You try to wear my gear for hours and we’ll see if you smell any better.”

Joker lifts his head just enough to rest his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. “Nah, I don’t think I could pull brooding bat off.”

Bruce kisses Joker’s temple before standing, and he heads to the shower while Joker cleans the kitchen up. Bruce doesn’t linger in the shower, even though he’s tempted. He picks the cleanest towel he can spot, and dries himself before heading to the bedroom where Joker’s closet is, and where he hides the clothes he steals from Bruce. It’s proven useful for when Bruce stays over, so for the most part, Bruce doesn’t discourage Joker’s habit.

“Whatcha doing?” Joker asks from the doorway, surprising Bruce with his presence. He’s holding a glass filled with scotch, and he offers it to Bruce.

“I was thinking about finding clothes,” Bruce replies as he takes the glass, relishing the burn of the alcohol in his throat.

Joker wraps his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. “Sounds boring.”

Bruce laughs and finishes his drink in one go. “Yeah.” He lets Joker take the glass from him and place it to the night stand. Bruce follows Joker, waiting for him to turn around before taking a hold of his face and pulling him into a kiss. Joker throws his arms around Bruce’s neck, making delighted noises into Bruce’s mouth.

It doesn’t take long for Joker to go from clinging to Bruce to drags his nails down Bruce’s chest. Bruce shivers, anticipation coiling in his gut, making his breath hitch. Joker grins against Bruce’s lips, and does it again.

“Tease,” Bruce mutters, and Joker laughs, genuinely warm in a way his laughter so rarely is.

Joker bites Bruce’s lip and trails his fingers down, his touch feather light until he _finally_ wraps his talented fingers around Bruce’s quickly hardening cock. Bruce lets Joker take control. He only offers encouragements as Joker kisses his way down his body as he sinks to his knees and takes Bruce into his mouth.

Bruce groans and buries his fingers in Joker’s hair, not bothering to be gentle as he angles Joker’s head as he wants. And Joker allows him to do it with only an encouraging moan.

Bruce could easily come in Joker’s mouth like this, if he wanted to. And he’s tempted. He is _so_ tempted. Joker’s tongue is sinfully talented on him, and the way he grins and moans around Bruce’s length should really be illegal. Bruce absently thinks he might have just lost a good portion of his intelligence because of it.

Still, somehow, Bruce pulls Joker back up into a bruising kiss, licking the taste of himself from Joker’s mouth. Joker pulls at Bruce’s hair until Bruce gets the hint and picks Joker up, only to throw him on the bed. Bruce doesn’t give Joker a chance to push himself up before climbing on top of him, pressing him down and kissing him until his lungs burn.

Bruce doesn’t bother being gentle as he strips Joker from his suit (why is he even wearing a suit so early in the morning?) and Joker only voices a mild warning for Bruce to not tear anything before letting Bruce do as he pleases. So, as soon as he’s rid Joker of his clothes, Bruce marks his skin with bites and kisses until Joker squirms and kicks him.

“Just get on with it or I start stabbing people tomorrow!”

Bruce laughs, but he reaches for the nightstand and gets the lube from there. Joker pulls Bruce back, biting his lips and throat, clawing at his back, mindful of the newly stitched injury there. Bruce kisses Joker briefly as he coats his fingers in lube, and he gently bites Joker’s throat to distract him as he pushes a finger into him.

“Would you —“

“No.”

Joker huffs and kicks Bruce’s side, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to smart. Bruce considers slowing down, just to annoy Joker, but he drops the idea and adds another finger, relishing the happy sigh he gets from Joker.

Bruce doesn’t spend longer than he has to prepping Joker; neither one of them wants to wait longer than they have to. Bruce pulls his fingers out, but before he can do more Joker shoves him to the bed and climbs on top of him. Bruce blinks up at Joker, his hands coming to rest on Joker’s hips. Joker grins, wicked and beautiful, and for a moment Bruce wonders why it took him so long to realize it. The thought leaves him quickly when Joker lubes Bruce’s cock and lines him up with his hole.

Bruce’s breath catches in his throat as Joker sinks down on him, and Bruce grips Joker’s hips, urging him along. Not that Joker needs urging, but Bruce likes to hold onto some kind of resemblance of control. Joker leans down to kiss Bruce, long and deep, enough for Bruce to lose himself in it.

Joker rests his hands on Bruce’s chest, and when Joker moves his hips in slow, torturous rhythm, Bruce moans, his nails digging into Joker’s thighs.

Soon, Joker sits up, his eyes sharp as he moves a little faster — with more intent. Bruce grips Joker tighter, trying to guide him to move in a way he wants, but Joker ignores him.

In fact, he slows down. “Trust me?” Joker sounds hesitant enough to make Bruce frown.

“Of course.”

Joker grins, trailing his hands up Bruce’s chest and his neck.

_Oh._ Bruce swallows, but doesn’t stop Joker when he wraps his hands around Bruce’s throat. Bruce grips Joker’s hips, more to hold himself back from instinctively grabbing Joker’s arms than from any worry or fear. Joker won’t hurt him.

Not badly, at least.

Rather than focusing on Joker’s hands tightening around his throat, Bruce lets himself get lost in the bliss Joker riding him brings him. He’s going to come embarrassingly fast, especially if Joker is going to keep making those pleased little noises of his.

Bruce loses his ability to breathe, but he doesn’t care or fight Joker, he only stares up into Joker’s eyes, marveling at the beauty of them when Joker is like this; wanton and dark.

Bruce loves it. His vision dances with black spots, the lack of oxygen starting to affect him, but rather than try to stop Joker Bruce wraps his hand around Joker’s erection, relishing the way Joker’s eyes fall shut, just for a moment.

Joker eases his hold on Bruce’s throat before he blacks out, murmuring praises at Bruce for not fighting him. Bruce closes his eyes and lets the praise wash over him, to push him closer to the edge. He thrusts up into Joker, almost throwing him off balance.

Without warning, Joker’s hold on Bruce’s throat tightens again, and he leans down to kiss Bruce. It’s messy, more teeth than anything, and Bruce moans. He grips Joker’s hips, holding him still, and fucks into him.

Joker’s mouth falls open as he moans against Bruce’s lips. He lets go of Bruce’s throat in favor of reaching down between their bodies. “Bruce.” His voice hitches. _“Bats_.”

Bruce holds Joker close as he comes, breathing words of love into Joker’s neck.

Joker comes moments later, and if Bruce was any more aware of himself he’d feel bad for not doing more to help Joker, but as it is he’s having enough trouble catching his breath.

“Love ya,” Joker mutters and presses a kiss on Bruce’s temple.

Bruce smiles. “Love you too.”

Eventually Joker rolls off Bruce and curls by his side. Bruce yawns and closes his eyes, thinking he’ll get up in a moment and clean them up. He’ll just rest his eyes for a bit first.

* * *

When Bruce wakes up, it’s to Pumpkin sitting by the bed, staring at him like he’s kicked her. Bruce huffs and rolls over, only to see an empty bed. He pushes himself up to his elbows, trying to gauge the time. The closed curtains make it hard, but Bruce assumes it’s past noon, just because he’s not tired anymore.

Pumpkin whines and bolts out of the room, ears perked in a way a dog’s ears perk when hearing someone in the kitchen, and after pulling clothes on, Bruce follows Pumpkin.

“You could’ve woken me up,” Bruce says as Joker offers him a cup of coffee.

“But you looked so comfortable. And tired.”

Bruce can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t try. He sits down and eyes the pancakes Jonny must have brought there earlier, along with Pumpkin. Joker pushes the pancakes closer to Bruce, and Bruce takes the invitation to eat the remaining ones. Joker sits by his side, playing with his phone, their knees pressed together under the table.

For a moment Bruce considers asking Joker about Firefly, but decides against it. It’s too early to risk annoying Joker by questioning him about the latest news from the criminal underworld of Gotham. “What are you doing today?” He asks instead.

“Nothing.”

Bruce doesn’t buy it, but he knows when not to push Joker if he doesn’t want an argument in his hands. “I’ll need to get home soon.”

“I’ll drop you off,” Joker offers without looking up from his phone. “If you want.”

“Yeah. I can go to — what are you doing?”

At that, Joker looks up slowly, studying Bruce for a few long seconds before shuffling his chair closer to Bruce’s and showing him the phone. Bruce raises an eyebrow at the heated conversation Joker is having with Poison Ivy about whether or not musical theater should be considered an illegal torture.

“She wants me to steal Harley’s collection before she gets home,” Joker explains. “Looks better for her if I do it than if she loses it.”

Bruce drags his eyes from the phone to Joker’s face, not bothering to point out that Harley is in a hospital, under constant surveillance. “I didn’t think you two were on talking terms.” He didn’t think Ivy would destroy Harley’s property either, but that’s a discussion for another time.

“Only when our interests align,” Joker replies. “No, I’m not telling you.”

Bruce closes his mouth, swallowing down the litany of questions he wants to voice. “You know I can figure it out on my own, right?”

“That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Joker flashes Bruce a bright grin, down his coffee and stands. “Ready to go?”

Bruce sighs, but nods and stands, grudgingly adding finding out what Joker and Ivy are up to now to the too long list of things he needs to worry about. “Sure.”

Joker beams at Bruce. “Great! Get your stuff and tell me where we’re going. And you’re getting me coffee on the way, okay?”

Bruce agrees. He spends the hour it takes them to reach his penthouse mulling over all the possible reasons Joker might have dealings with Poison Ivy.

“Do I need to worry about you?” Bruce asks as Joker parks the car, his eyes fixed firmly on the view outside the window rather than Joker.

Joker is quiet so long that Bruce risks a glance at him, not surprised to be faced with that dark look Joker gives him when he doesn’t appreciate whatever Bruce has just done. “No,” he says, a little too sharply.

Bruce smiles and nods. “Assuming things are going to quiet down a little bit... I could chase you, if you want.”

Joker grins and leans over to kiss Bruce. “You’re so sweet.”

Bruce only smiles before getting out of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month so we'll see how soon I have time to update this again, since I've got school work and exams coming up. I'm aiming for the gap between updates to be shorter than this time, though.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break in updates, I've had a lot of uni work and an extremely sick dog to deal with, and I just haven't had the energy/time to focus on writing. I'm gonna try to get back to it soon, though.

Firefly doesn’t show up, which Bruce considers a small miracle. The less things he has to worry about the better. It’s a much needed respite from all the bad things happening around them.

To make things better, the police department has figured out how to house the Arkham inmates without Batman’s help. The streets become a little quieter after that, giving Bruce much needed space to breathe. He spends an evening with Tim, just lounging around and watching TV before heading out for patrol. It’s a nice reprieve from the stress they’ve been under.

Bruce even allows Joker to commit petty vandalism on the mayor’s office, as long as it stays in the realm of a few tasteless graffiti and an empty car on fire. It keeps Joker happy, and a happy Joker is always better than an upset Joker.

Bruce is in such a good mood that when Joker calls him before six in the morning, Bruce manages to sound happy, even if he is exhausted.

“Who are you and what did you do to my Brucie?” Joker demands.

“I can’t be in a good mood anymore?” Bruce laughs, shaking his head.

“Not without me there to witness the miracle!”

Bruce only laughs harder, which makes Joker grumble more. “Did you need something?”

A silence fills the line, and Bruce imagines Joker pouts. “I might have found a lead on the stolen chemicals,” Joker says eventually. “Thought you’d wanna tag along since I can’t be bothered to give it my full attention.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “You can’t be bothered to hunt down a person who stole from you?”

“Nah. I’ve got you to do the hunting. I’ll do the murdering — sorry, intense scolding — after you’ve found them.” A ruffle, followed by a soft tap comes over the line. “Though in this case I’ve already found them so all you need to do is look pretty. And intimidating. Intimidatingly pretty? So how about it?”

“Sure.” Bruce will have to keep an eye on Joker, but a possible lead on the Arkham fire is something he can’t pass up on. “What’s the lead?”

“A club,” Joker replies, his voice gaining a mischievous edge.

Closing his eyes, Bruce groans internally. “Which one?”

“I’ll show you.” Bruce can imagine the delighted grin appearing on Joker’s face. He should argue. He should tell Joker no, but he also knows Joker will never tell Bruce what his lead is unless Bruce agrees to let Joker to show him which club. Sure, Bruce could find the club on his own, but the likelihood that the lead is a person who will be in this specific club only once is too high for Bruce to ignore.

“Fine. But we’re going to set some ground rules later,” Bruce says, stifling a yawn.

Joker gasps. “Oh, you poor thing, go get some sleep before you fall and crack your pretty head open and bleed to death.”

“Thanks,” Bruce mutters, but he can’t quite stop himself from smiling. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Sweet dreams, darling!”

Still smiling, Bruce hangs up, and heads up to the manor and to his blessedly soft bed.

* * *

Going to a club with Joker would hopefully be less disastrous than Bruce telling about it to his family is turning out to be. Tim is staring at him incredulously, while Dick is struggling to keep his composure. Even Barbara has fallen deadly silent on the other end of Dick’s call.

“It’s just to find a lead,” Bruce repeats.

“Must be some kind of a lead,” Dick muses.

Alfred clears his throat and takes a small step forward. “While I would like to imagine that Joker has your best interests in mind, should we be so quick to dismiss the possibility that this is an attempt to... mislead you for his own amusement?”

Of course Bruce had considered that, and the fact that Alfred feels the need to doubt him stings. “It’s worth the risk.”

“Is it?” Barbara asks. “You’re going to be in a packed, public place with him, and if something goes wrong —“

“And it will,” Dick injects.

“ _ —  _ you’ll be all alone.”

Sighing, Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “It will be fine. And besides, this is the only lead we have. We have to follow it.”

Bruce hears no arguments, but the looks he receives are displeased. “I don’t like this,” Barbara says, making her opinion on the matter known as well.

“I can handle Joker,” Bruce assures them.

“You sure?” Tim raises an eyebrow. “I know you think there’s some kind of rules in place because of your relationship, but can you be sure he won’t try anything? I mean, I don’t think he’ll severely hurt you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try  _ something. _ He’s been quiet for so long. Doesn’t he get bored with it?”

“He’s got a point,” Dick says, nodding towards Tim.

Bruce refuses to let their lack of belief in him get him down. “I’ll handle it.”

“Let us hope this will not end in disaster,” Alfred sighs.

“We’ll be ready to back you up if you need it,” Tim promises.

“Thanks,” Bruce replies, meaning it. “But for now, is there anything else we should be worried about?”

“Not on my end. I’m still running a few programs, though.” A sound of something being dragged across a table follows Barbara’s words. “It might take a few hours.”

“Let me know if you find anything interesting,” Bruce says as he turns to Tim and Dick.

Dick shakes his head. “Nothing here. I’ve got a thing in Bludhaven, though.”

“I’ve got a lead on the inmate escape fiasco,” Tim says. “But it’s slim so I’m not saying it’s going to really lead to anything.”

With their brief, impromptu meeting over, Bruce heads to his room, wondering what he should wear that evening. Joker had informed Bruce that the club they were going to is on the more prestige end of the clubs that won’t call the police even if all of the big players of Gotham’s underworld were to go there. “It’ll be perfectly safe,” Joker had assured him. “Some of your rich friends go there too!”

That had not been reassuring in the slightest, but Bruce had little choice in the matter. He’ll just have to trust Joker to know what he’s doing, and if nothing else, they get to have a night out together. Bruce almost laughs. Clubbing with Joker is another thing to add to the growing list of things he never thought he’d do, but it’s not the worst addition. It might even be fun.

Bruce huffs and heads to take a shower. The night has too big of a chance to end up being a nightmare, but Bruce tries to ignore it and pretend things will go fine.

* * *

Joker doesn’t allow Bruce to drive them to the club. Instead, Jonny is there to take them, though he has to wait for them in the hall with Alfred keeping him company while Joker insists on picking Bruce’s clothes for him. Bruce allows it, but only because Joker has a good taste in clothes and he’d rather not start the night with Joker in a foul mood.

When they leave the manor, Joker is grinning, a happy skip in his steps. Joker had dressed Bruce in a dark three piece suit, and picking the outfit had taken less time than deciding whether or not Bruce should wear the jacket. Joker had opted for not, but Bruce had still taken the jacket with him despite Joker’s protests.

While Jonny excels in ignoring Joker chattering to Bruce in the backseat, Bruce listens to Joker, not paying too much attention to the meaningless things he says, but not ignoring him either just in case Joker says something Bruce should know.

“Don’t worry,” Joker says out of the blue. “You’ll be fine, no one’s gonna make a big deal about you being there, even with me. And if they do —”

“Don’t kill anyone,” Bruce cuts in. “And I’m not worried, I’m thinking. We’ll need a strategy.”

Joker rolls his eyes.

“I’ll feel better if we have a strategy,” Bruce amends.

“Go in, get the guy, torture him until he tells us what we want to know?” Joker smiles, bright and happy, and Bruce barely holds back a groan.

“No, we’re not — no torturing anyone, okay? We’ll... I’ll figure it out.”

Joker shrugs. “Suit yourself. But just remember, I’m ready to torture the information out of him if it’s needed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Joker grins, wide and bright, and Bruce has to bite back a smile. Sometimes it’s too easy for him to laugh off Joker’s words these days, and a part of Bruce wonders if it should worry him. There was a time when Joker offering to torture someone would have chilled him to the core. It  _ should _ still bother him.

“We’re here,” Jonny says, snapping Bruce from his thoughts, much to Bruce’s relief.

Moments later Bruce follows Joker out of the car, and he takes a second to enjoy the familiar hustle of Gotham at night. He might be intimately aware of the horrible things that spilled to the streets from the shadows, but he does love the city.

Joker tugs at Bruce’s hand, pulling him across the street and through the doors of a conspicuously inconspicuous club — the kind of place you’d have to know about to enter. The bouncer glances Joker once and doesn’t bother to even pretend to stop them. Bruce sticks to Joker’s side, scanning the surprisingly large crowd. The booming music drowns out all conversation, and the colorful lights flashing across the dance floor illuminate the space enough for Bruce to see around fairly well, even if the corners remain dark.

Joker pulls Bruce past the bar, through the corridor behind it, and to the smaller, more quiet area of the club. Bruce trusts Joker to know where he’s going, even if he’d be more comfortable knowing who exactly they are looking for. When they enter the quieter area, Joker shoos Bruce to get them drinks from the bar while he settles in a corner, his gaze already scanning the room for whoever he’s looking for.

To Bruce’s relief, the bartender does nothing more than eye Bruce for a second longer than he should before serving Bruce drinks. When Bruce returns to Joker with the drinks, Joker graces Bruce with one of those rare, gentle smiles before turning his attention back to the room.

“Can I help?” Bruce asks as he settles by Joker’s side.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Joker glances at Bruce over the rim of his drink. “You don’t even know who we’re looking for, silly.”

Bruce doesn’t point out that’s Joker’s fault, not his, and turns his attention to the room before him; he might as well have some fun practicing his skills of observation while he waits for Joker to find whoever he’s looking for. Bruce spots a couple arguing, a group of women avoiding a group of men, and what is definitely an illicit deal of some kind happening in the furthest corner of the room before Joker downs his drink in one go and tugs Bruce’s sleeve.

“There.” Joker nods towards an unassuming looking man heading towards the bar. Bruce nods, his eyes fixed on the man. His dark suit is neat, but not tailored to him, and his hair is slicked back with a bit too much product. Bruce suspects he’s a mid-level thug trying to climb up in the world.

“I’ll handle this,” Bruce says before handing his glass to Joker and approaching the man, smiling briefly at Joker’s amused chuckle.

Bruce reaches the bar, positions himself next to the man, and turns to greet him. The man is surprised, but as he recognizes Bruce, he’s too confused to decline when Bruce pays for his drinks before gently ushering him towards Joker, chatting amenably the whole way to keep the man off balance.

The man — Dylan, Bruce learns as they walk across the room — is understandably terrified to face Joker, but by that time Bruce’s hold on his arm is secure enough to keep him from bolting.

“I just wanna chat,” Joker says, too sincere to be truthful. To Dylan’s credit, he doesn’t let the terror on his face stop him from offering Joker a tense nod. Dylan even follows Joker and Bruce out of the club and into the alley behind it, though Bruce’s hold on his arm might have something to do with that.

As soon as they’re out of the sight of the public, Joker’s demeanor changes and he grabs Dylan from Bruce’s hold and shoves him against the wall. Bruce considers stopping Joker, but decides against it, settling for just watching for now.

“So, here’s the thing,” Joker starts like he’s talking about the weather. “Someone took my stuff and I’d like to know who it was so that I can, uh, express my displeasure at them.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, but remains silent. Dylan swallows, either too terrified to speak or thinking that remaining silent is the safer option. Joker cocks his head, regarding Dylan with patience Bruce isn’t sure is real. He hopes, though, as he’s got little interest in seeing Joker explode when Bruce isn’t in his batsuit and properly equipped to stop him.

“You know anything about that?” Joker asks, his voice light and sweet, a sharp contrast against the coldness of his eyes.

“I... don’t think so?” Dylan glances at Bruce, as if he expects help, or wonders why he’s even there.

Joker laughs. “You see, that’s funny ‘cause I know you know something about it. So how about you don’t try to bullshit  _ me  _ of all people and force me to make a mess of you in front of Brucie here. He’s sensitive about that stuff. He might faint.”

Bruce narrows his eyes at Joker, who offers him a sweet smile in return before turning back to Dylan. “So how about it?”

“I don’t know anything,” Dylan insists. Bruce decides he’s either braver than he looks or an idiot — maybe both.

Joker sighs, slowly turning a full circle where he stands, looking up to the skies as if to ask for strength. When he faces Dylan again, he punches him in the throat without a warning. Dylan goes down, gasping for breath.

“He can’t talk if you do that,” Bruce points out, taking a step closer to Joker in case he needs to step in and stop him from murdering the man before they get any answers out of him.

Joker turns to Bruce, spreading his hands. “We can find a pen and some paper, and he can write what he knows down. Or give him a phone to type on. I’m not picky.”

There’s cold logic in it, and Bruce hates the ease in Joker’s voice just a little. He hates how casual Joker can be about hurting people, like it’s nothing. Get breakfast, do laundry, kill a person, buy milk; none of it has any difference to Joker.

Ignoring Bruce’s inner conflict, Joker turns back to Dylan. He crouches on the damp ground next to him, sighing and crossing his hands, as if he’s about to address an unruly child. “So. Wanna talk, or do I need to call Jonny here to bring me my pliers? They’re really great pliers, too, you’ll love them. Well, I’ll love them. But you’ll get to know them  _ really  _ well.”

For a moment, Bruce thinks Dylan is going to talk, but then he shakes his head and sets his jaw, despite the fits of coughing still wracking his body. Joker clicks his tongue. “Now I’m really curious about what’s in that gelled up head of yours.”

“Nothing. I know nothing,” Dylan insists, his voice weak and raspy from the damage to his throat.

“You’re not as good of a liar as you think,” Bruce cuts in, mostly to stop Joker from injuring Dylan further. Dylan’s eyes dart to Bruce, and Bruce nods towards Joker. “You’re better off telling him what he wants to hear.”

Dylan laughs at that, joyless and a little broken. “Nah, I’m good.”

Joker frowns. “You do realize what’s going on here, right? I’m gonna drag you into a car and throw you in, and then I’m gonna spend the rest of the week and probably the next one making you sing pretty songs. I mean, you’ll tell me what I wanna hear within the first day, the rest of it is just for fun.”

Dylan shakes his head. Joker purses his lips. “Quick question; are you left of right handed?”

Dylan pauses. “Right?”

_ “ _ Good.” Joker grabs Dylan’s left hand and breaks two of his fingers.

While Dylan tries to scream — his injured throat making the sound more of a rasp — Bruce drags Joker up to his feet. “Seriously?”

“What? He’s being difficult!”

Bruce levels Joker with his least impressed expression, but unlike with his kids, it has little effect on Joker. Bruce draws in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “You’re not going to get anything out of him if he’s dead or too injured to talk.”

Joker rolls his eyes. “I know what I’m doing, okay? I’m not—” he laughs, shaking his head. “If I need to remind you that I know how to torture people we have a real problem in our hands, sugarcups.”

Of course Bruce hasn’t forgotten that, how could he? “Believe me, I know what you’re capable of. But could you try to be a little less extreme for once and not torture a person to death just because they don’t do what you want them to do?”

Joker’s face goes through a fast series of expressions ranging from annoyed to enraged to amused, until finally settling somewhere between frustrated and angry. “You’re a pain in the ass, and not the fun kind.”

“I try.”

It has the desired effect of making Joker crack a smile, even if it’s for a few seconds.

Joker groans and returns back to Dylan. “Look, if you could be nice and not make me torture you — even if I really  _ really  _ want to do just that — I’d appreciate it.”

To Bruce’s shock, Dylan laughs. “The thing is, I’m less scared of you than you’d like.”

Joker frowns, as does Bruce. Their confusion is all the time Dylan needs to pull a gun from an ankle holster and shoot himself.

The silence following the shot rings loud in the night, and a part of Bruce expects people to come running into the alley. But no one comes; this is Gotham, after all, and gunshots in the night are not an unusual occurrence.

“Well... shit.” Joker looks over his shoulder at Bruce. “Now what?”

Bruce’s eyes widen. “You’re asking me?”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be a super detective! What do you do when a lead shoots himself?”

“This isn’t exactly a daily occurrence to me!”

Joker pushes himself up. “How do you not know how to deal with this?”

Bruce sighs and runs his hands through his hair, and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he’s more in control of himself again. “Go through his pockets; find his phone, matches, receipts, whatever he’s got on him. Barbara can deal with the phone and I’ll check everything else.”

Joker does as Bruce says without complaint, and soon he’s thrusting a phone with a cracked screen at Bruce. He takes it and pockets it, already thinking of all the things he’ll need to check on it.

Joker stands a few moments later, stuffing whatever he dug from Dylan’s pockets into his own. He smooths his clothes as he turns to Bruce. “Wanna get wasted?”

Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up. “Now?”

“Why not?” Joker spreads his arms. “Why come to a club if we’re not gonna have a little fun?”

For a moment, Bruce envies Joker’s ability to brush off Dylan’s death so easily — but only for a moment. In the end, it only leaves him tired and a little sad. But Bruce smiles, then nods. “One drink.”

Joker ends up coaxing Bruce into getting drunk, which leads to Joker being able to talk Bruce into dancing. It’s fun, in a way things with Joker often are, and Bruce finds himself relishing the moment of carelessness. Joker pulls him close and whispers sweet nothings into his ear, and Bruce briefly wonders if it’s supposed to be so easy for him to forget everything around him and for Joker to be the only real thing in the world. Maybe he’s just drunk. When he asks for Joker’s opinion, Joker laughs and kisses the corner of Bruce’s mouth before ushering him outside, saying something about fresh air.

“I love you,” Bruce tells Joker. He doesn’t do it often enough.

“I know, darling.”

“You’re a lot nicer than you let people think,” Bruce continues.

Joker laughs, pulling Bruce into a car. When had they reached a car? “Don’t tell the world that. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

As the car lurches forward, Bruce settles against Joker’s side. His head pounds and the sirens sounding behind them are far away, thought when Bruce glances out of the rear window, he sees the cars parked near the alley Dylan’s body is in, too close for the sound to seem so distant.

“Did you drug me?” Bruce asks, turning to frown at Joker.

“Yeah, but only to give you a good cover story if we hadn’t gotten out before Jimbo’s trusty crew raids the club. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine by morning.” Joker smiles and pats Bruce’s cheek. “Just get some sleep.”

“You drugged me.” Bruce isn’t sure if repeating the words would help them make more sense, but he doubts it.

“For your own good,” Joker assures him.

It’s such a Joker thing to do that Bruce can’t quite be as mad as he should — or maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe he’ll be properly enraged once he sobers up. “You could’ve given me a warning.”

“And end up arguing with you until Gordon showed up? I don’t think so.” Joker shakes his head, chuckling.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible person and I have no idea what I see in you,” Bruce grumbles, slumping against the back seat. He feels like he’s floating, and his thoughts are getting too muddled up.

“It’s my charming smile and quick wit. I’m irresistible,” Joker replies, but his voice isn’t quite as light as it should be.

Distantly, as his head falls on Joker’s shoulder, Bruce is aware that he should apologize. He wants to apologize. He wants to assure Joker that he didn’t mean it, he’d never mean it; he loves Joker, no matter what. But Bruce can’t get his mouth to form the words, and his eyelids slip close before he can muster up the will to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, despite trying to get to it for two weeks now I've barely edited this because I don't have the mental energy to sit down and properly edit anything right now (thanks, world!), but I do need to get back to actively working on stuff, so here's an update! Enjoy! I (know it's a mess and I'll edit it properly in a year or so. Probably)

Bruce wakes up in his own bed, and it takes him a moment to remember how he ended up there. He has a faint memory of Joker helping him walk, snickering quietly as they had tried to not wake Alfred up. Bruce isn’t sure if they succeeded, and he doubts he’ll find out until he manages to drag himself downstairs and into the kitchen. It’s something he’ll leave for later.

Much, much later.

Groaning, Bruce rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. His mouth tastes disgusting and his head is pounding, and the other side of his bed is too cold. Joker hadn’t stayed the night. Bruce frowns before a hazy memory of an argument in a car floats into his mind, and he curses. Had he angered Joker?

Fearing the worst, Bruce reaches for the nightstand, fumbling as he tries to find his phone without getting up. Eventually his fingers brush against it, and he inches it closer until he can take a good hold of it and pulls it to him. He doesn’t have to look as he dials Joker, and to Bruce’s surprise Joker picks up sooner than he expected.

“You’re alive!”

“Barely. I’m pretty sure I should be scolding you for drugging me, but I need a rain check on that for now,” Bruce replies, turning his head enough to not talk into his pillow. “I have a vague memory that I upset you last night.”

“Nope.” The reply is just a little too fast to be sincere, and Bruce frowns.

“You sure?”

“Yes, dollface, I’m sure. Everything’s peachy.”

Bruce bites his lip. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“No matter what. I mean, we’ve pretty much done the worst we can to each other already so it’s not like I don’t know you, or you me. And we’re still here. And I still love you.”

Joker is silent for so long Bruce almost checks if the call has accidentally disconnected.

“You okay?” Joker asks, his voice quiet.

“Yeah. I just... like I said, I feel like I upset you.”

“I’m fine. We’re fine,” Joker replies, and this time Bruce believes him. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.”

“I always worry. It’s my thing,” Bruce replies, earning himself a soft laugh from Joker.

“Well, go worry about the stuff I left for Jeeves. The phone and the rest? There’s something for you to do.”

Bruce had forgotten about that. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Always.” Joker hangs up before Bruce can say anything more, but Bruce feels better, so he doesn’t let it bother him.

After a while he gives up and gets out of bed, needing to do something about the taste in his mouth.

* * *

The phone yields little results, as do the receipts and other pieces of paper Joker had taken from Dylan’s pockets. Bruce tries not to let it get him down.

What does yield results is Barbara’s search on Dylan, and suddenly his shooting himself makes a lot more sense to Bruce.

“You sure?” Tim asks, frowning at the information on the screen.

Bruce can practically see the withering look on Barbara’s face. “Of course I’m sure. Dylan Harding, age thirty-four, has a daughter in intensive care and last night someone paid for her treatment.”

“So he killed himself because of his daughter?” Bruce frowns and crosses his arms. “Can you track the money?”

“Already on it,” Barbara assures him. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

With that, they end the call, and Bruce orders Tim to do his school work if he wants to go on patrol that night. He sends Joker a message informing him of the situation with Dylan, but he doesn’t get a reply. Bruce frowns, then puts a trace on Joker’s phone. It’s not something he particularly enjoys doing. For one, Joker would be furious if he knew Bruce abused having Joker’s phone number in such a way, and... it doesn’t feel right. But knowing where Joker is would ease Bruce’s mind, especially when he can’t be sure Joker is in a state of mind where he’ll behave; no matter how much Joker insists he’s not upset, Bruce isn’t comfortable trusting that.

The trace puts Joker near one of Crane’s known hideouts, and Bruce groans and leaves the trace running in the background, and sets the program to update his phone in case Joker moves. Hopefully it’s not going to lead to anything and Bruce will end up feeling like a jerk for spying on Joker, but he’d rather not risk Joker causing trouble and him not being aware of it immediately.

* * *

Tim tears a ligament while chasing Crane two nights later, and the only positive to come out of the night is that Joker had nothing to do with either Crane releasing his fear toxin in a crowded gala or his escape, since he was in a self induced drug coma at home. Bruce had checked. Twice. Then he’d ordered Jonny to watch Joker in case his overdose — and Bruce is sure it’s an overdose no matter what Joker had slurred at him — turns out to be a little too life threatening.

With Tim injured and Crane having disappeared, Bruce makes the decision to see Tim safely off the streets rather than spend what little remains of the night chasing down Crane. Barbara and Alfred are already on it anyways, and if all else fails, Bruce can try bribing Joker to offering a hint as to where to look. Not that Bruce is sure what he should bribe Joker with to get him to give up anything on Crane. The right thing could be anything from a vial of some experimental chemical or a bazooka to a large box of cupcakes.

They have to take Tim to the hospital, just to be safe, which forces Bruce to focus on being the right level worried while scolding Tim for doing stunts on his bike. In return, Tim acts the right level of sheepish and unused to being injured.

The sun is already up when they leave the hospital, and Bruce is exhausted. He hasn’t slept in two days, and chasing Crane had exhausted him physically more than he expected. Maybe Alfred has a point when he says Bruce should push himself less. Not that Bruce would ever admit it, but perhaps he should take one night to focusing on less taxing problems. The worst of the escaped Arkham inmates have been rounded up, and besides Crane and the Arkham fire, there aren’t any major cases that demand Bruce’s immediate attention. He  _ could _ take a day to focus on the lighter stuff.

Bruce’s musings are cut short when Jonny texts him, letting him know that Joker has woken up and is now miserable and vomiting in the bathroom. Bruce sighs, and tells himself to take Joker being awake as good news.

Instead of heading back to the manor, Bruce opts to stay in the penthouse, mostly because he wants to be closer to Joker in case his situation worsens for some reason, partly because he wants to work without Alfred’s quietly judgmental looks. He takes a quick, hot shower, gets himself a cup of coffee, and settles on the couch with his laptop.

Bruce starts by checking his email, setting the more important ones aside for now, and focusing on the ones that he can skim through. Once that’s done, he opts for getting a quick update on the Rogues. Cobblepot is safely in hiding, though Bruce is sure he could find him if he poked around the Iceberg Lounge a little. Harley had woken up from her medically induced coma and though she’s causing a bit of a ruckus in the hospital, she’s smart enough to know she needs to stay there to fully heal, so Bruce settles for monitoring her situation for the time being.

Ivy and Nygma are off grid, and though Bruce is sure Joker knows where they are, he’s not sure pressing Joker for that information would be smart.

The others are a bit of a mystery, much to Bruce’s disappointment. Two-Face has made a few appearances in the underworld, and there was a robbery not a week ago that might have been Selina’s doing, but that seems to be it.

There’s always the chance that some of the Rogues have left Gotham, and though Bruce likes to say he trusts his friends to tell him if Gotham criminals appeared in their cities, he still runs a quick search in case they have missed something.

After doing the appropriate searches and coming up with little to nothing, Bruce sighs and closes his laptop. He stretches his arms before sipping his coffee, deciding to give in to the desire for a proper breakfast. He’ll get to the important work emails after he’s eaten something and the coffee has woken him up a bit.

He’ll also have to check in with Joker at some point and make sure he hasn’t died. Bruce sighs again and rubs his eyes. Sometimes he wonders how he ended up where he is.

* * *

Bruce forgets, for the moment, about Joker and the drugging incident, and the problems of Gotham’s criminal world, deeming the theft of potentially dangerous tech from his company. Considering everything else that’s been going on, Bruce takes the theft more seriously than he might usually do; whoever stole the chemicals from Joker and set Arkham on fire might very well be behind this theft as well, considering it was pulled off without tripping any of the security measures Wayne Enterprises has in place.

That, or Joker is messing with Bruce, in which case Bruce will strangle Joker and ignore the fact that Joker will definitely enjoy it.

It’s closer to evening when Bruce enters the warehouse the tech was stolen from. Lucius is there, along with a few security guards and police officers left to guard the crime scene. Bruce would have been there sooner, but he’d been stuck talking to detectives and lawyers the whole day.

“What happened?” Bruce asks as he approaches Lucius, scanning the warehouse for clues that might answer his question.

Lucius runs his hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I have no idea. The workers alerted us to the theft.”

Bruce nods and stops by Lucius’ side. “So. How dangerous is this thing, exactly?”

“Hard to say.” When Bruce raises an eyebrow Lucius elaborates, “it’s a catalyst of sorts, meant to make combining chemicals and such easier. It was designed mostly for medical use, but we did test it for military purposes as well. That’s why it was here instead of Wayne Enterprises; we were sending it to field tests.”

“Maybe we should stop working with the military,” Bruce muses as he crosses his arms. “Less dangerous tech to steal.”

“In that case I hope Batman is ready to learn to upgrade his gear himself or be prepared to continue crimefighting with what he has,” Lucius replies, throwing a brief smile at Bruce.

“Touche.” Bruce sighs. “I need to come back later to look around. Can you send everything you have to Barbara?”

“Already done.”

_ “ _ And we need to interview the staff from last night.”

“I’ve already put people on it,” Lucius assures Bruce.

“And... you’ve taken care of everything?”

Lucius smiles and nods. “I talked to Alfred to be sure.”

“Thank you.” Bruce closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That helps. And I might need a word with the staff tomorrow, after the meeting with the financial team. Apparently this is a disaster and we’re about to lose money and everything is going to hell.”

Lucius nods, though he frowns. “I wasn’t aware of the meeting.”

“They sent you a memo,” Bruce assures him. “Considering the day you’ve had...”

“I’ve been too busy to check my mail,” Lucius admits.

“I’ll see you there, then,” Bruce says and heads for the door. He’ll need a few hours to rest and review the incident, but he’s ready to make figuring out who stole from him a priority that will be solved by the weeks end.

It’s only Tuesday, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to accomplish, after all.

* * *

The meeting with the board would be exhausting normally, but after a night of hunting down any leads on the warehouse robbery and coming up with nothing, even with Dick’s help, Bruce is already tired. With some help from Lucius, he makes it through the meeting itself unscathed, and though the board remains on high alert, they are satisfied with the plan going forward.

It’s barely afternoon, and Bruce wants to go home and sleep until evening. He’s exhausted, both physically and mentally, and he needs rest. Luckily Dick is waiting for him in the lobby, holding cups of coffee. Bruce smiles and waves at him, his joy at seeing Dick wavering slightly at the pinched look on Dick’s face.

“Your boyfriend is in the car,” Dick informs Bruce in a low voice when Bruce reaches him. Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up, and he accepts the coffee Dick hands him in stunned silence. “I hope you can make him shut up because if I have to drive all the way up to the manor with him chattering nonsense in the backseat I might crash the car.”

“Why is he in the car?” Bruce asks, deciding to ignore Dick’s complaints.

“He called Alfred, and somehow I ended up picking him up and getting him coffee. If you can call what he drinks coffee.” Dicks sighs and shakes his head. “I did not know you could get that much whipped cream and chocolate chips in a coffee.”

“Neither did I, but you learn something new every day. Especially with him,” Bruce says, unable to stop the smile spreading on his lips. Dick rolls his eyes and mutters something about Bruce and being hopeless into his coffee.

Bruce gives Dick a moment to breathe, knowing how stressful being around Joker can be, even if you know what you’re doing like Bruce, and to Dick who is still getting used to Joker’s presence in his life in a way that doesn’t involve broken bones and explosives.

“We should get going,” Dick sighs. “The sooner I get to drop him off the sooner I can forget about him.”

“Did he say why he needed you to pick him up?”

Dick shakes his head, making Bruce frown. It’s not unusual for Joker to pull stunts of all kinds, but Bruce would like to know what he’s walking into. “What’s his mood?”

“Chipper and chatty.” Dick shakes his head at his coffee. “Can’t tell if it’s a front or not, but as far as I know he’s in a good mood.”

“Then he probably is,” Bruce says. “I think you know him well enough to be able to tell if he’s about to get homicidal.”

“Not with his mood swings,” Dick mutters. Bruce pretends not to hear him, and starts walking towards the doors.

Joker is indeed in the car, happily lounging in the backseat, playing with his phone and blasting music. He grins at Bruce and waves his half empty chilled coffee at him. “Darling!”

Bruce settles in the front seat, letting Dick drive, and smiles at Joker. “What are you doing here?”

“I need a lift and Jonny took his car to the mechanic. I don’t know why. It’s not like I crashed it last night, I just scratched the sidewalk a little.” Joker sighs and shakes his head. “Poor thing’s overreacting again.”

Bruce hums in complacent agreement. “Where are you going?”

“I really just wanted coffee which birdie here was nice enough to get.” Dick grimaces at Joker’s words, but if Joker notices it he doesn’t acknowledge it. “You can drop me off at the mechanic. The car should be fine now so Jonny should have calmed down.”

Bruce nods and settles into his seat. He means to keep talking to Joker after Dick is done interrogating him about the location of the garage, but his eyelids keep drooping. It doesn’t help that Joker reaches over and rubs the sore muscles of his neck. He’s faintly aware that the car pulls over at some point, of Joker leaning over and kissing his cheek before cheerfully telling Dick goodbye. The backseat door opens and closes, and the car continues on its way with Dick grumbling under his breath by Bruce’s side.

* * *

Bruce is readying for a night on patrol, distantly aware of the fact that Joker had seized sending him pictures of Pumpkin, a wrench Bruce assumes he stole from the mechanic, and Gotham scenery from a car half an hour ago. The most likely explanation is that Joker has gone home or started doing something that doesn’t grant him the time to constantly text Bruce, which Bruce acknowledges could be a bad thing; Joker might be doing anything from online shoe shopping to planning mass murder, after all. Bruce leans towards show shopping, mostly because Joker hasn’t given him any reason to think he might be planning murdering anyone.

And besides, Bruce has more important things to worry about — at least until he can be sure Joker is doing something that might put others in danger. If that happens... Bruce doesn’t know what he would do.

Bruce grabs an apple from the kitchen, planning to check on Tim on his way to the cave. Tim will most likely take over for Alfred in the cave some time during the night, but for now Tim is doing school work. Or so he says; Dick claims he’s catching up on his shows. Bruce doesn’t care as long as Tim rests and heals up. He’s halfway up the stairs when Alfred calls for him. Bruce stops and frowns, and heads to the foyer where Alfred’s voice came from.

The air in the foyer is tense, with Alfred doing his utmost best to keep a neutral expression while the five men, all dressed in smart suits, though Bruce is quick to note the suits are not tailored, though they might have been fitted. Everything about the men is similar; an illusion of wealth and status that might fool those who don’t actually have the wealth and status they are imitating.

One of the men, a large, hulking thing with a buzz cut, steps forward, his pale eyes icy, but his smile almost nice. “Sorry to barge in, but our boss would like the tech from your warehouse — the one that you claim was stolen? The catalyst?” Bruce’s eyes widen. “We thought it best to come get you to personally hand it to us from wherever you put it. While we keep your family company, of course,” the man continues, glancing past Bruce.

Bruce follows his gaze, his eyes landing on Tim at the top of the stairs, his hand behind his back, his expression grim. Bruce hopes he hasn’t called anyone besides Dick, as Barbara might alert the police — a slim chance without being told the police is needed, but a chance still. Dick on the other hand should be somewhere in the manor, and he would be able to help with dispatching these people quickly and efficiently, as long as he gets into the cave and into his armor quickly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce says as he returns his attention to the man before him. “The tech  _ was _ stolen; I can’t take you to it.”

“Well, unfortunately we’re not in the business of believing claims like that,” the man replies.

Bruce tries to come up with a solution, anything he can do to stall while Dick gets moving and comes to knock some sense into these idiots.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” Bruce says, trying to buy time. “Even if the tech was in our possession — which it isn’t — I couldn’t just walk into the Wayne Enterprises and grab something from there.”

“Of course you can,” the leader of the group says. “You’re Bruce Wayne.”

“That he is, but you see, Brucie here is  _ painfully _ horrible at lying.”

Bruce swirls around at the sound of Joker’s voice, his eyes wide, barely able to keep his jaw from falling. Joker leans on the railing grinning widely, with Tim shaking his head and shrugging by his side. Dick rushes from behind the corner, nearly crashing to Tim, out of breath and looking less than pleased.

“He doesn’t have your thingy,” Joker adds as if his presence there was completely normal. He pushes himself off the railing, descends the stairs, and saunters to Bruce’s side, winking at him as if they’re both in on some secret.

“And you know this because...” the group leader waves his hand, encouraging Joker to finish the sentence for him.

Joker rolls his eyes and shakes his head at Bruce before turning his attention to the man before him. “I have it. Obviously.” Bruce’s surprise only grows, and he barely stops himself from demanding Joker explain the situation to him. “And you’re such a good little goon to have come here.”

Instead of answering, the group leader pulls out his phone and dials someone. They all wait for a few seconds in tense silence. Bruce takes the opportunity to glance at Joker, who of course has his amused, relaxed veneer on, his attention returning to the group leader only when he acknowledges someone on the other end of the line.

“Yes, he’s here. One moment.” He offers the phone to Joker, who accepts it after exchanging a brief glance with Bruce.

“Just so we’re clear, this isn’t gonna be one of those  _ weird _ mystery calls, right?” Joker’s eyes turn cold when whoever is on the other end of the phone responds, though his smile stays in place. Bruce takes an instinctive step towards Alfred, trying to put himself between him and Joker.

“So, long time no see... or hear.” Joker starts walking around the foyer. “How you’ve been?”

Bruce follows Joker’s movements, watching him grow tenser little by little.

“Oh don’t be like that! You wanna play with the grownups, you gotta act like one.” Joker stops, for a second, to pull a butterfly knife from his pocket. “Why do you want Brucie’s tech?”

Bruce steals a glance at Tim and Dick, both of whom are watching Joker flick his knife closely. Joker hums, nods, then scoffs. “You’ve lost a brain cell or two along the way. Granted, you never had that many to begin with —” Joker’s almost bored expression shifts into anger, just for a moment before he fixes a smile on his face and laughs in that high pitched, sharp way that always sends chills down Bruce’s spine. “Need I remind you of the last time you thought pissing me off was a good idea?”

While the person on the other end of the line answers, Joker pivots slowly, tilting his head, his smile gaining a mean edge. “Why so scared? No — I know your scared. That’s exactly what it sounds like.”

Dick shifts in Bruce’s peripheral vision, and Bruce spares him a look. Dick raises an eyebrow, nodding subtly at the men still standing at the door, and Bruce shakes his head minutely. They’re better off not accidentally making the situation worse by starting a fight, at least until Bruce can be sure Joker isn’t going to do anything stupid.

Joker notices their exchange and rolls his eyes at Bruce. “So what do you have against Bruce these days?” he asks whoever he’s talking to, his attention leaving Bruce again. Seconds later he stops, looking almost surprised for a moment. Bruce considers demanding Joker put the call on speaker. “Jeez, you’ve got a thin skin. Well... no, yes. You know what I mean. But, look kiddo... you have got to grow up! Who throws a fit this big over something like that? That’s crazy.”

A moment of silence follows, broken when Joker laughs abruptly. “I’m certified crazy. I can do crazy things.” He turns to study Bruce, and Bruce crosses his arm before he can stop himself. “As entertaining as this conversation has been, I think I’m gonna have to say no on the giving you a thing part. How about instead we meet up? Just you, me, and a heavy blunt object? A crowbar? A baseball bat? A brick in a pillowcase? A questionable antique statue? No? I’m gonna find you, you know. You’re kinda fucked. Take the head start you have and do your best to utilize it to its full extent.”

Before Bruce can even fully process Joker’s threat, Joker has already thrown his knife at one of the men by the door. The knife sinks into his throat, taking him down immediately, and all hell breaks loose.

Bruce dives to get Alfred out of the way as the remaining men draw weapons. He spots Dick pulling Tim to the ground before he hurries down the stairs. Bruce ignores the gunshot in favor of handing Alfred to Dick before turning to scan the foyer.

Joker has already taken care of most of the men (Bruce refuses to think killed until he has concrete proof of that being the case), and the last two are smartly backing up. They aren’t fast enough though, and Joker pulls his knife from the throat of the first man and throws it at the man closest to him. The man stumbles back, tripping his companion, causing his carefully aimed shot at Joker to go wide.

“Hey!” For a second, Bruce catches Joker’s eye, and the fury in Joker’s eyes diminishes and he stops, blinking at Bruce as if realizing he’s there only then.

Of course the remaining man has to fire his gun at that moment, the shot only grazing Joker’s arm due to the man’s trembling, and snapping his attention from Bruce, his fury returning in an instant.

“Don’t —” Bruce closes his eyes when Joker pounces the man, twists his arm, and fires the gun at his head.

As the lifeless body slumps to the ground, Joker sighs and claps his hands together. Bruce lifts a finger, counts to ten, and opens his eyes. “We have a deal.”

Joker’s face falls and he spreads his arms. “He shot me! They tried to take the birdies and Jeeves hostage!”

They stare at each other in tense silence. The longer the silence grows, the less Bruce feels like he should say something, and the more Joker’s expression shifts from incredulous annoyance to anger. It isn’t until Alfred clears his throat from the top of the stairs that the tension eases slightly, and Bruce swears he’ll get Alfred a gift for it before morning. Whatever Alfred wants.

“Perhaps we could direct our attention to the more pressing issue of what is going on here?” Alfred levels both Bruce and Joker with a stern look, and Bruce lowers his eyes, appropriately chastised.

But Joker waves him off. “Consider it taken care of. And I’ll get Jonny to take care of... this.” He waves at the bodies at his feet.

“Just like that?” Dick injects, much to Bruce’s frustration.

“Yeah,” Joker replies a little too sharply. “Unless you wanna explain to Gordon what’s going on here.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs before focusing on Joker again. “Before we do anything about that, give me the phone and explain what’s going on.”

“Ah, you see —” Joker chuckles and toes one of the bodies absently “— I’d really like to do that, but unfortunately I kinda need it, so how about we make a deal. I give you your fancy tech back and keep the phone, and you stay out of it?”

It takes Bruce a moment to realize he did, in fact, hear Joker correctly. “No!”

Joker shrugs. “Well, I guess I’ll just let Crane keep the fancy tech after all. Wonder what he’ll do with it.” He grins, mischievous all of the sudden. “Can you imagine what would happen if he tested that thing out by combining his toxin and my gas? Last I saw him he was itching to launch his first test.”

Bruce’s blood runs cold, and the sharp look Joker levels him with tells him Joker knows he’s got Bruce right where he wants him.

Joker pulls the phone from his pocket and offers it to Bruce. “So, how about it?”

Bruce glares at Joker, his hands fisted at his sides, his emotions jumping from hurt to furious to betrayed faster than he can keep up. He can’t believe Joker would threaten Bruce like that. Not anymore — not in a way that’s something that Joker would have done without a seconds thought before their relationship. They were supposed to be past this.

“No?” Joker pulls the phone back. “Suit yourself.”

While Bruce tries to settle on the best way to tell Joker off, Joker puts the phone back in his pocket and steps over the dead bodies. He smiles pleasantly as he approaches Bruce, staying just a step further than he usually would. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. You just go on with your normal crime fighting night, and I’ll go deal with this. And I’ll make sure you get your tech back by morning.”

Bruce grits his teeth, but before he can speak his mind, Joker presses a finger to his lips. “It’s my problem, I’ll take care of it.” His smile falters, his eyes darting across Bruce’s face, searching for something Bruce doesn’t think he’s capable of giving him in that moment. “Just trust me,” Joker adds. “Please.”

Not knowing what else to do, Bruce allows his shoulders to slump. Joker’s smile brightens minutely, strangely hopeful, before he looks away and steps back. “I’ll send Jonny over right away.”

He’s hurrying out of the front door before Bruce can question him further. Bruce groans and runs his hands through his hair.

“What do you want to do?” Dick asks, his voice closer to Bruce than Bruce expects. Bruce looks over his shoulder, finding Tim, Alfred and Dick standing at the bottom of the stairs, their faces grim.

“Put every trace you can think of on him,” Bruce says. “But keep your distance. If he thinks we’re keeping an eye on him...”

“He’ll snap and take it out on Gotham?” Tim finishes.

“Yeah,” Bruce sighs, exhausted all of the sudden. He doesn’t want to go back to treating Joker as the enemy. He’s not sure if he can even do it.

Bruce turns without looking at the bodies, and heads towards the cave. He might as well occupy himself with getting to work and thinking of anything but Joker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this!


End file.
